


This Half-Life with You

by mugsandpugs



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-28
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-01 15:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4024351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nux is an eight-year-old War Pup recently taken from Down Below. Unaccustomed to life and the bizarre culture of the Citadel, he relies on his partner Slit to show him the ropes. Eventual Slit/Nux. Rated for later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Hey Slit; we've got you a new partner." 

The Organic Mechanic's voice preceded him down the stone corrider towards Pup Bunker 3, where Slit was half-doubled on himself worrying at a piece of scrap metal embedded in his foot. He looked up at the sound in time to see the man enter through the archway with his arm around a small, wide-eyed boy. 

"Who's that?" he asked, only giving the boy (blue eyed, floppy haired, seemed to have all his limbs) a cursory glance. He directed the question at the Mechanic, not at the potential partner himself, but the boy spoke first anyway. 

"I'm Nux," he said. "I'm eight." 

"Eight?" Slit scoffed, rolling his head to make his neck crack (and the metal staple holding his left cheek together glint in the skylight.) "Tell me you're joking. No eight year old is that small." 

The Mechanic planted a hand on the boy's back, shoving him forward. "Take 'im or leave 'im, Slit; he's all we've got to spare and you're short a partner." 

Slit avoided flinching, just barely. He didn't want to think about Vex, though he'd been all that had been on his mind for days, after seeing his arm catch in a rotating motor. He'd never be free of the blood or the nightmares. 

The boy, who had stumbled and nearly fallen to the stone floor from the Mechanic's push, righted himself and stuck a hand out in Slit's face. It took Slit a moment too long to realize he was meant to take it and he did, looking over the peach-fuzzed shoulder to the Mechanic's bemused face. 

Nux gave his hand an enthusiastic shake. He must've come from Down Below; this seemed like one of their weird customs. 

"No," Slit said, yanking his hand back. "It's like this." He lunged forward, slamming his forehead hard into Nux's. Nux promptly fell back onto his ass and stared up at Slit in pained disbelief. 

"Ow?" he said, more of a question than anything. Slit nodded. "Exactly." 

The Mechanic smiled. "I'll leave you pups to it," he said, and departed. 

**###**

The thing that became immediately apparent about Nux was his complete inability to hold still. Slit nearly lopped his ear off as he attempted to shave his hair for him, the boy kept looking around at every sound. 

"Would you stop?" he snapped, seizing the boy's jaw in his hand and squeezing hard. 

"Sorry," Nux apologized, keeping his head still, but his eyes still roved all around the room. The most frequent words out of his mouth were questions: "What/who/why is that?" He didn't seem at all bothered by Slit's one-worded answers, sometimes grunts or even just outright silence. 

Now he began babbling at Slit as the older boy slid the straight razor down the back of his neck. "I'm from Down Below. But you probably knew that. I had four little sisters! But they're all... you know. Two died right after being born. One doesn't have eyes. And one can't move the lower half of her body, so mum has to carry her everywhere. That tall lady told Mum they'd give her a full pitcher of water a WEEK if they let her take me." He puffed his chest out proudly. "I'm the man of the family, so I'm providing for them." 

Slit grunted again. There was no way anybody, especially not ruthless and bloodthirsty Furiosa, was giving this runt's mother a pitcher of water a week, not for him, but he didn't feel the need to tell him that. He'd figure it out himself eventually. 

"What about your mum, then?" Nux asked, and now his eyes found Slit's. Slit had never seen eyes so blue before- though rumor had it that Joe's eyes were "blue and sharp as electricity." 

"Dunno," Slit shrugged. "Could be anyone. I was born here." 

"Here!" Nux squawked in surprise, attempting to rise from his seat (Slit roughly pushed him back down again.) "How could you be born here?" 

Slit didn't answer. He threw an arm around Nux's neck, holding him in a headlock to dig out the last stubborn remaining traces of hair behind his ears. Nux cried out when the razor pricked him and a thin line of blood welled up and dripped from his earlobe. Slit leaned forward and swiped at it with his tongue, and again until it disappeared. Then he stood back to survey his handiwork. 

"From now on you do that yourself," he told his new partner. "And your own clay, too. But I'll show you this time." 

One of the younger pups darted from a gap in the walls to begin gathering handfuls of mouse-brown hair from the floor and Nux's mouth opened to form that word again- "Why-" 

But Slit grabbed his arm- so scrawny his fingers wrapped all around it- and hauled him back, past the small pool of trickling water, to where several man-sized vases waited. 

"This is War Clay," he said, and stood on a stool to reach in with a cup and dig out some of the damp white goo. "You're to always cover yourself in it." 

Nux blinked, stared at first the mess and then at Slit. "Oh!" he said in realization. "I knew there was no way you were really that pale." He looked so pleased with the new knowledge. 

Slit rolled his eyes, grabbed a fistful of the stuff, and planted a hand on Nux's sunken chest, smearing it. "You do your front," he said, and ducked behind him to do the same with his back. 

Obediently Nux spread it evenly over his chest, arms, and stomach while Slit efficiently coated his back and legs. "Why-" he started to say, and then grinned sheepishly, as if aware that he was annoying his partner. 

Slit rolled his eyes again, fingers tracing the boy's bird-like shoulder-blades. 

"Keeps you protected from the sun," he said. "Confuses enemies and promotes unity, everyone looking the same." 

He turned Nux around to rub his chin and cheeks. When he got to the boy's lips, he felt for a fraction of a second a small tongue before Nux winced. "Tastes terrible." 

Slit almost smiled, then went to the smaller vase for a spoon of black powder. 

"For your eyes," he explained, more gentle than usual as he coated first one eyelid, than another. "Also sun protection. Don't actually get it in your eyes- it burns like the flames of hell." 

Nux nodded. When he opened his eyes again, the blue was just that much more intense with the black smears surrounding them. Slit had to look away. 

"One more thing," he said. "Come on, back to the bunkers." 

He was pleased to see that Nux remembered the route from the War Boys preparation room to their sleeping quarters- it was so easy to get lost inside the Citadel. 

When they reached the rock outcropping (little more than narrow ledges in the wall stacked six deep) he called a bed, he dug around in the sack he used for a pillow and pulled out a pair of his old pocket-covered trousers. 

"These should fit," he said, and pointed to the dingy fabric tied around Nux's waist, his only clothing. "That won't do you any good when you're working with five hundred degree metal trying to scorch your bits off. Change." 

For the first time, Nux seemed a bit hesitant. Slit made a gesture of _get on with it_ , using his hand. It occurred to him that the boy didn't want to get naked in front of him. 

"Get used to it, Nuts," he said, smirking, and made it a point not to look away as the boy gritted his teeth, stripped, and slid the trousers on. (Though once dressed he did seem pleased by the pockets.) He picked up the cloth from the floor and put it in the pillow-sack. Then, resolutely not looking at Slit for the first time that day, he folded his arms over his bare chest. 

"Aw," Slit laughed, leaning back on his bunk to poke Nux in the stomach with one dirty toe. "Did I embarrass you?" 

Nux swatted halfheartedly at the intruding foot. "No," he snapped, too sharply to mean it. 

Slit poked him again and this time Nux grabbed his foot. He startled in surprise when the older boy grunted in pain. 

"What-" he said, and then looked down at the ankle in his hand, seeing the shard of metal in the skin between two toes and the puckered, oozing skin around it. He hissed sympathetically. "How long's that been there?" 

"Not long enough to go see the Mechanic," Slit replied, which was another way of saying 'three days.' Three days since he'd dived into the side of a dismembered four-wheeler, reaching blindly for Vex through the spraying blood and finding nothing but a corpse, a body that had once been a friend.. 

He gritted his teeth and Nux, still holding his foot, sat down beside him. Without hesitation he spread Slit's toes apart and reached for the metal with his figners. 

"Stop-!" Slit began, but Nux replied, "I'm good at stuff like this. Just look away." 

"If you push it in deeper, Nuts, I swear-" but there was no heat behind Slit's threat, and he obligingly looked away at a spider crawling up the wall behind them. 

"On three," Nux said. "One-" and then he yanked the shard all the way out. Slit yelped out loud. 

"I thought you said on three!" He growled through clenched teeth. 

"You would have stiffened up if I meant it," Nux replied, triumphantly holding the inch of metal between two fingers. 

Slit would never admit it, but tears of pain were pricking the corners of his eyes and white-yellow fluid oozed from the triangular gash on his foot. 

"Infection," Nux replied matter-of-factly. "You might get a fever later to burn it out, but probably not. 'S not very big." 

At Slit's cocked head Nux explained, "It's worse when it gets red and tight. Leaking is good, means your body's fighting." He matter-of-factly wrapped the toes with some fabric and gave Slit's leg an affectionate pat. 

They sat there quietly for a moment, with Slit's leg still over Nux's lap. The clamor of bells made them both jump. 

"Dinner," Slit explained, and saw his partner's eyes light up in interest.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Nux really is a beautiful cinnamon roll too good for this earth. (Too pure.)

Slit was a messy sleeper.

Nux quickly learned that, on the narrow bunk they shared, he had to be the one to sleep on the edge. Their first night together Slit had toppled right out and onto the floor, his arm around Nux's waist dragging him down too. Now Nux acted as a human barricade. 

Of course, all the Pups in their bunker had their quirks. There were the gassy sleepers, the ones who snored, and the ones who sleep-spoke. Some twitched and kicked as they dreamed, sometimes beginning unintentional brawls with their grumpy partners. There were altogether too many pups, not enough space. 

Nux, however, slept on his side as a stiff, unmoving log- such a shocking contrast to his active waking self. A few times Slit had even put a finger under his nose just to feel if he was still breathing. As far as bed partners went, he wasn't so bad. 

In the mornings, Nux was usually the first to wake, so eager to begin his prayer to V8 and Joe as he held his tray out and someone dumped his morning gruel into it. 

Slit was a bit more on autopilot during this time. "Thank you Immortan Joe for providing us with food from your hands," he dully told the painting. "We will show our gratitude in words and deeds." 

The server frowned at him, but dumped the gruel in his tray anyway. "Watch your tone, pup," he warned. 

Slit and Nux went to sit with the other Pups, who were all surreptitiously watching the War Boys eat on the other half of the room with nothing short of hero worship in their eyes. All wanted to grow up to be War Boys, and all were aware that few would succeed. 

"One day," Nux whispered. "One day I'll be a driver. And you'll be my lancer. Right, Slit?" 

Slit grunted, picked a beetle from his gruel and popped it into his mouth. There was no sense in experiencing hope before a full stomach. 

A hushed silence fell upon the room and the pups watched as the Boys sprang to their feet, dropping their trays with a clatter, and clasped their fists above their heads. The reason why soon became clear when Immortan Joe's magnified voice boomed through the room. "Boys! Pups!" 

The Pups jumped up as well and took up the position of respect and deference. Unable to see Joe over the Boys' heads, the Pups could only listen to the brief announcement. 

"I have taken a new wife," Joe told them. "The Bullet Farmer graciously gave us his daughter. She is to be allowed to wander the Citadel freely; you are not to touch her and you must protect her with your lives for she is Darling above all else!" 

The room rang with a chorused bark of agreement. Message delivered, Joe left to a chorus of voices exalting his name and then mealtime resumed as normal. 

**###**

Darling was, well, darling. Every now and again, they caught glimpses of her floating through the hallways in a drugged stupor, fanged chastity belt warning off even the suicidally stupid. She was tall with mahogany skin and thick black hair tumbling past her wasp waist. She had dimples and round cheeks and honey-colored eyes. Her laugh was like the tinkle of glass in the wind and just the sight of her was enough to take Nux's breath away. . 

"Have you ever seen anyone so beautiful?" Nux whispered to Slit as they returned to their crowded barracks when, after a long day of welding, they'd caught a glimpse of her tending plants on the top of the Citadel. 

Slit shrugged. "She won't last long," he said. "Don't get used to her." 

Nux frowned, looking genuinely bothered by this information, and his lips opened to form that accursed word- "Why?" 

"Don't you know how to say anything else?" Slit snapped. " _Why this, "Why that,_ ; no wonder your mother sent you away." 

Nux turned to stare at him, such naked and genuine hurt in his eyes that Slit felt the grin slide from his face and a pang of something like remorse in his chest. He threw it aside. To be so easily damaged by mere words was a quality that could get a pup killed; he needed to harden his partner up right away. It was his duty. 

"Are you gonna cry?" he taunted, smiling cruely. "Little Nuts misses his mummy." He elbowed the nearest pup, snickered and pointed. "Look; Nux is gonna cry!" 

Other pups quickly joined in on the jeering; one gave Nux a hard clap on the ear. Nux yelped and cringed, trying to step away, but a wall of pups had come between him and the exit, excitement in their eyes. A proper beat-down was in the air and they could smell it. Someone gave Nux a hard shove, sending him sprawling at Slit's feet. He looked up at his partner and the fear in his eyes was genuine. 

A boy pushed through the crowd, his skin so shockingly naked against the wall of pale white clay that he could only be one person: Rictus, Immortan Joe's youngest son. Though no older than they, Rictus was _big_ , and none of them dared lay a hand on him. 

"What's happening, boys?" Rictus asked, looking at Nux and then up at Slit. Slit licked his lips; he hadn't intended for this to go so far. But there was no going back. 

"Nuts here misses his mummy," he said again, moving his foot under the boy's backside to kick him towards Rictus. "He was gonna cry!" 

Rictus scoffed. "Mums don't exist here," he said, and they all heard the wheeze in his voice. Big as Rictus was, his lungs were terrible. 

Nux, who was actively shaking now, dared to look up and meet the big boy's eyes. "Mine does," he said, tone unmistakably a challenge. "My mum loves me." 

Not for the first time, Slit felt something dangerously close to admiration, even envy, at his partner's words. To be so certain and unabashed of foreign concepts like 'love'... 

Ricktus threw his head back and laughed, and then just as suddenly struck, kicking Nux in the mouth with his boot. 

"Your 'mummy' sold you to us," he told the cowering form. "You are nothing to her. She doesn't know if you're alive or dead, and she doesn't care." 

He reached down and grabbed Nux by a fistful of flesh on his back, hauling him upwards, and Nux screamed in pain. 

Leaning in close, so close their cheeks brushed, Rictus whispered in Nux's ear, "She's already forgotten your name." 

Nux reared back and spat a mouthful of blood in Rictus' face. 

**###**

"He'll be fine," the Organic Mechanic said reassuringly to Slit. "Once he wakes up and all. What was the fool thinking, picking a fight with Rictus?" 

He turned to shake a finger in Slit's face. "Part of your job as his partner is to keep him from doing things like that. We're running low on War Boys; can't have you all dying when you're still pups. You'll never get into Valhalla like that." 

Slit didn't respond to the lecture but continued to stare sullenly at his bare, bleeding feet. He'd had to fight tooth and nail to extract Nux's body from Rictus' arms. Nux had cried out and then gone completely limp the third time his head had met stone, but Rictus kept slamming him down. All Slit had seen was red, the ghostly cries of Vex ringing in his ears. 

"Rictus is gonna remember your faces, boy," the Mechanic warned. "He ain't the type to forget a grudge, and you bit him good." 

Slit knew the man was right, and he still tasted blood between his teeth, but he couldn't bring himself to regret it. Not yet. 

"I'm gonna wrap it up for the night," the Mechanic concluded. "Wake me up if something happens." He slouched to the opposite end of his quarters, crawled into a pile of rags, and shortly began to snore. 

Slit watched the Blood Bag swinging from the ceiling over Nux's bed, nearly unconscious from being drained upside down for so long. Her face was purple and tears streamed from her eyes. 

Nux himself was a small pile of broken bones and swollen bruises on the floor and Slit was only able to make out the general form of him by following the tube that connected him to the Blood Bag. 

After a long while, Slit sighed in frustration and slid to where Nux lay on the floor, coming behind him to tentatively wrap an arm around his chest, pulling him closer. He was more reassured by the beating of a heart under his hand than he wanted to admit. 

Because nobody was conscious to hear him confess it, Slit whispered in his partner's ear, "I'm sorry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive him, Nux; he knows not what he does.
> 
> (Rictus' "Mums don't exist here," line is a reference to Manfred Bloor's line in " _Midnight for Charlie Bone_ ," by Jenny Nimmo, for any of you who caught it. When I first read that line as a kid it chilled me to the bone and it felt fitting here.)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War Boy bath time (no really)

The fact that all pups and boys were shaved frequently served multiple purposes. 

Hair was a liability in battle. War Boys often came back from capturing rogues boasting how the enemy almost got away until they seized a fistful of their lank, overgrown hair and halted them in their tracks. 

Hair was also an indicator of weakness. Their lack of nutrition meant that it grew in dull, patchy; if the enemy were to ascertain which of them was weakest by how unhealthy they looked, they could become more of a target. 

And finally... 

"We're getting a _bath_?" Nux squawked in indignation. "I never had a bath before an' I'm fine, thank you!" He was cradling his broken arm gingerly to his chest, as he'd been for weeks after Rictus' attack. 

"You'll do as you're told," said Slit who, like the other pups, was stripping out of his trousers and stuffing them into his pillow-sack. 

Naked, they began to file out of the room. Slit crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "C'mon, Nuts," he finally groaned when the other boy made no sign of moving. "Immortan's orders." 

This got a reaction. Though all the boys seemed to worship Joe as an angry God, Nux truly and unironically _loved_ him. It was a bit creepy, if Slit was being honest with himself. But it did the trick; Nux threw off his trousers and stood self-consciously with his good hand over his bits. 

"Which way do we go?" he asked, and Slit grinned. 

**###**

The bathhouse was litle more than a dingy dip in the ground, illuminated by eerie blue chemicals stuck in bottles here and there. Water could be deposited via mechanical waterfall from a crank in the ceiling and it thundered down now, creating fine mists of rainbows here and there. The whole place reeked of something astringent, like cat urine. 

The echoy underground space was filled with Boys and Pups of all ages and sizes, naked as the day they were born and eyeing the water warily. 

The Organic Mechanic and his assistants oversaw it all. 

"As per Immortan Joe's orders," said the Mechanic, "We're having ourselves a nice chemical dip." 

There was a loud, collective groan among the boys; Slit sighed, resignation on his face. 

"What's a chemical dip?" Nux whispered into his ear, his curiosity completely unaffected by Rictus' attack. 

"Someone's got something," Slit whispered back. "A disease. Lice. Something. This'll burn it off, as well as everything else." 

"Everyone into the water," the Mechanic ordered. "And don't skimp; if you do, I'll know." 

Despite their complaints, nobody hesitated from a direct order. As the first wave of boys stepped in the water frothed and fizzed at their contact and Nux watched in trepidation as they grimaced in pain. They walked until they were about shoulder-deep in the water and then just stood there as it roiled and foamed around them. The astringent reek of the room grew stronger. 

"Come on," Slit sighed, throwing an arm around Nux's shoulders. "The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can leave." 

Nux's heart was pounding in his chest as he and the other boys stepped into the water. At first he felt nothing but cool waves lapping his ankles; then the heat set in. 

"Ah!" he cried out, trying to step back. Slit held him tighter, dragging him forward until they, too, were shoulder-deep in burning, surging liquid. Tears and snot streamed from Nux's nose and eyes. 

"What _is_ this?" he coughed. 

Slit shrugged. "Chemicals." He wondered if even the Mechanic knew what was in this veritable soup of bacteria-killing formula. 

A few of the younger pups were crying- actual tears, not just the eye-watering that came naturally. But in this, nobody could fault them. And everyone was too miserable to start a fight now. 

The mechanic turned to something on the rock outcropping- two bulbs, stacked on top of one another, the lower filled with sand- and flipped it over. The sand immediately began trickling into the lower bulb. 

"Fifteen minutes," he said. "Make sure to get your faces, too." He turned away to talk with his assistants, distracted. 

"I'll _melt_ , Nux groaned miserably, dropping his face into the crook of Slit's neck. Slit absently patted his head. He woudln't melt, but he'd wish he had later. 

A few of the older boys were rutting against one another in the water, trying to distract themselves from the pain. Slit couldn't read the grimaces on their faces; were they enjoying this or not? He supposed he didn't care. 

"What are they doing?" Nux asked, eyes wide. Slit bit his lip, cringed at the naivety of his partner. 

"Shut up, Nuts," he hissed. "I'll tell you later." 

Some of the pups closer to them snickered. One reached forward to pat Slit's back. 

"Good luck, Shit," he said, still chuckling. 

Nux just watched the Boys in confused fascination, and Slit briefly considered drowning himself, or Nux. 

As the burning faded to tingling, and then to to numbness, the sand gradually filled the hourglass. It would be over soon; all breathed a collective sigh of relief. 

"Faces!" the Mechanic called, and everyone winced. 

"Here, Nuts," Slit sighed, uncharacteristically gentle as he put a hand on Nux's back and used the other to pinch his partner's nose closed. "Close your eyes and mouth." 

Nux did as he was told and Slit lowered him backwards in the water, which immediately began bubbling furiously again. After a long second, Slit drew him back out. 

Nux was shuddering all over, making tiny, pained sounds. 

"That's it," Slit said, patting his back. "Nice and easy. The first time's the worst." Lie. "You'll feel better in a minute." Lie. "I won't leave ya." Truth. 

When he had Nux propped against the rocky edge of the bath he quickly dunked himself as well and emerged, blind, to ride out the pain with his arms around his partners waist in something he'd never, ever call a hug. 

He felt Nux drop his head and touch their foreheads together, a War Boy custom that had once been alien to him but he'd quickly liked and adopted. They remained that way for some time. 

"You can get out now," the Mechanic said. "Time's up and- Darling? What are you doing here?" 

Slit tore his streaming eyes open and looked towards the doorway, where Immortan Joe's beautiful wife stood, staring blankly at everyone. 

Everyone in the bath froze uncomfortably, staring back. 

She swayed and fell against the wall, unable to properly hold her balance. 

"I told you he drugs her," one of the Pups murmured behind him. "She's high out of her mind." 

"Probably has to," whispered another. "I mean, can you imagine?" 

There was a collective shudder. 

"A'right, Miss Darling," the Mechanic said, stepping towards her and trying for a smile. "Let's just get you out of this stuffy old bathing room. Don't you want to look after your flowers?" 

She focused her dilated eyes on him, swayed alarmingly, and then straightened up again. 

"There is no Valhalla, you know," she said conversationally. "You're just dying because he tells you to. Just his toys, his little chess pieces." 

"Miss Darling." The Mechanic's voice was firmer now. He put a hand on the small of her back, pushed her towards the exit. "Let's go. I'll take you to Miss Giddy." 

She hadn't taken more than a step before she collapsed and the Mechanic ducked, catching her over his shoulder like a heavy sack of flour. 

"You can go," he called to the Boys and Pups. "Someone drain the bath." 

When Slit turned back to Nux, the boy was watching the wife, eyes enormous and sad. 

"Why is she like that, Slit?" he asked, worrying at his lower lip with his teeth. "Do you think she meant it, about Valhalla?" 

"No way," grunted Slit, who neither knew nor cared. Valhalla or not, this was his life. Hope was for fools. "She's just baked, is all. Her brain is mush." Careful with Nux's broken arm, he pushed the War Pup out of the bath and then hauled himself out as well, shaking the water off like a dog. 

It'd been so long since the Boys and Pups had seen one another's true skin that it was almost like standing in a room of strangers. Though everyone looked red and raw, the variation was astounding; the palest cream to the darkest of night. Nux himself was staring in fascination at Slit, particularly at the jagged scar on his mouth. 

In groups they shuffled out and back to the bunkers where they carefully, carefully crawled into their bunks, wincing as their raw skin came into contact with rough stone. Nux spread their pillowcase sack as well as both of their trousers out over the stone first before they climbed up. 

Slit's skin felt stretched tight, dry over his body, threatening to rip. He knew in a day or so he'd be itchy all over.and have to sleep with cloth on his hands to keep from scratching himself open. 

"You gonna be okay, Nuts?" he asked his partner, poking him none-too-gently in the nose. "We have to get back to work tomorrow." 

"I'm fine," Nux lied quietly. He reached out, brushed his thumb over Slit's scar, the staple that held his cheek together. "What happened, Slit?" 

Slit closed his eyes. "Another time, Nuts. Get some sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You want to know how he got those scars? His father was... a drinker. And a _fiend._


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is that a plot I hear in the distance?

Go was a chubby, dimpled boy with so many freckles he almost looked tanned and a veritable bush of hair so red he looked aflame. It took the effort of two war pups to cut and shave it off. 

"I can't believe it!" he kept saying. His eyes were so blue they almost rivaled Nux's. "I can't believe I'm a war pup. Mum would be so proud." 

Slit could have groaned. Fantastic. _Two_ soft Pups from down below who worried about their mothers. What was this, a nursery? 

"How is your mother?" Nux asked, because of course he did. Next they'd all start making daisy chains and talking about their feelings. 

Go's smile faded a bit. "She died. Dad left ages ago; no idea where he is. It's just me and my twin sister at home, and I had no way to get us any water, so I enlisted." 

Nux nodded sympathetically. "I have little sisters," he said, with warm fondness in his eyes. "Wish I could see them." 

That was a dangerous train of thought. War Pups and Boys were not allowed among the Down Belowers, unless they were arresting people or capturing them per Joe's orders. Slit gave Nux a steady scowl. 

"You both need to shut up," he snapped. "We don't have all day. The Boys requested help in the welding room and then we're to stand with Joe as he releases the water." 

Nux's frown deepened into a glare. "Just because you don't have a family-" he was already desperately trying to backpedal the moment the words left his lips. "Oh no, oh that was an awful thing to say, Slit. I'm so sorry." 

Slit shrugged. Did Nux thing he'd hurt him with that comment? Why should he care? Nux had been with him for almost a year now, and Slit was no better able to understand his fixation with family than he was when they'd first met. 

"You're right," he said. "I don't have one." He assumed, vaguely, that the Milk Mother who'd given birth to him was still around, and that some of the Boys or Pups were likely his siblings, but he felt less connection with them than he might with a rock on the ground. At least a rock could be used as a weapon. 

They quickly covered all of Go's freckles with War Clay and then made their way to the engine room. "The Mechanic says your partner's currently in the sick room," Nux told the newcomer. "So you'll be with us for today." 

Morning shift in the welding room was preferable to the afternoon shift in that it was slightly less hot. The junked '73 Camarro that had been disassembled was now being put back together with parts- some new, most borrowed, and tweenage war pups were ideal for handling some of the finer detail work. 

"You'll do," a Boy with sweat down his back said when he saw Nux's long, thin fingers. "C'mere." He lifted Nux under the arms and swung him up to a support beam, and then began pulling the chain to raise it high up their supply shelves. "Get me that green box, would'ja?" 

Slit caught himself staring nervously at the rusty old chains holding his partner thirty feet in the air. Nux would be fine; he couldn't keep babying him all the time. He busied himself with getting a rag and wiping up oil slicked over the fender. 

"Whoa!" Nux cried and Slit dropped his rag,whipping around to look at him again. Nux giggled, raised his fingers in the 'okay' sign. He'd only lost his balance for a moment. 

Slit, cursing himself and his rapidly beating heart, focused pointedly back on the fender. _He wouldn't care he shouldn't care he DIDN'T care..._

He ended up breathing a sigh of relief anyway when the Boy swung Nux safely back on the ground again, desired box in hand. _This is stupid._

As it turned out, they ended up assembling an entire engine using many salvaged parts. When, after hours of work, it finally sparked and roared to life, there was a collective, ecstatic cheer. 

"Praise V8!" a red-cheeked and sweat-dampened Nux cried, jumping up and down with his arms in the air. "It is by Joe's hands that we have achieved this!" 

The War Boy hooted and swooped both him and Go in the air, one under eath arm, and planted a noisy wet kiss on each of their cheeks before bringing them both up and simultaneously butting heads. Nux giggled again and, when set on his feet, stumbled into Slit's chest. 

"We did it," Nux sighed dreamily, looking up at Slit through eyes creased into little crescent moons, he was smiling so big. "We made an engine." Slit had never seen him look so happy before. 

Slit's heart gave a funny lurch for one strange moment. That had been happening a lot lately; maybe he was allergic to Nux. Or to happiness. 

He quickly pushed his partner away. "Great," he said sarcastically. "Only four hundred more to go." 

Go was staring at their creation in nothing sort of amazement. "Capable would be so proud of me," he said, dancing from foot to foot. "I've never done anything this big before." 

"Capable?" Nux asked, coming down from his high just a bit. 

"My sister," Go grinned. "She loves cars, she really does. Knows way more about them than I do." His frown faded somewhat as he thought back. "Though maybe... she wouldn't be so proud. She was pretty angry when Furiosa took me away. Said I was going to my death." 

"Not death," the War Boy shook his head. "Down Belowers never understand, poor fools. I'm riding to Valhalla in a Camarro with this V8 engine. I'm gonna go down historic with my brothers witnessing." 

This time, everyone cheered; even Slit. 

**###**

Late that night, Slit woke with a full bladder and a half-empty bunk. He patted around absently, feeling for Nux, but found nothing but stone. _Cool_ stone; Nux had been gone for a while. 

Cursing, Slit went to quickly relieve himself and then to search for his partner. Wandering the Citadel alone was always precarious, but it was especially bad at night. 

He wasn't in any of the other pups' bunks, and he wasn't in the mess hall. Slit was just considering going up to the hydroponics level- stargazing was exactly the sort of sappy nonsense Nux would probably enjoy- when a light, musical strumming from the main hallway caught his attention. 

The Coma-Doof Warrior lived like some sort of phantom or ghoul in the rafters, seldom seen except for times of war. What he did all day, what he ate, how he got around while being completely blind- it was all mystery and speculation to the Pups and Boys. Elevated both literally and figuratively over the lives of the warriors, he was their own living legend. 

Yet, what else could that melodic strumming from above be but him? It sounded as if he were absently and unhurriedly picking at the strings of his guitar. When Slit focused his ears he could even hear a soft humming- and voices. 

Peeking into the hallway, what Slit saw was so unexpected and bizarre that he had to rub his eyes twice to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. 

Kneeling on the floor was Nux, bare chest glowing white from the moonlight outside. And face-down on his lap, crying fit to burst, was Darling herself. 

"Please, don't cry," Nux said, brow furrowed in concern as he stroked her thick hair. 

Her fists clenched in the fabric of his trousers as if she was grounding herself to the earth. 

"It's all over," she wept. "I'll never escape now." 

From above the guitar strumming became gradually smoother, a calming sound. 

"But why do you want to escape?" Nux asked. His fingers sifted through her hair, making and unmaking tiny braids. Slit wondered how Nux knew how to do that and then remembered the boy's sisters, his mother- had comforting people been a pastime in his old life? 

"I'm... He's taken me off the drugs," said Darling, her voice hitching, her back shaking with repressed sobs. "I remember everything now. I'm. Pregnant." 

A look of wonder crossed Nux's face. and he regarded her with adoration gleaming in his round eyes. "Pregnant!" he breathed. "But that's wonderful! You're carrying His child! You are blessed over all mothers." 

"No," she shook her head. "No, don't be so stupid, Pup. How could you-" 

But then she stopped. After a moment she sat up, wiped tears from her swollen face, and gave a tiny, bitter laugh. "How could I expect you to understand, child? You belong to him as much as I do. We're both damned in this wretched, wretched world." 

She stood up, but Nux reached for her hand. "Please don't go," he said. For a brief moment, she allowed him to lace their fingers together before she pulled away again. 

When he stood up to follow after her, she turned around and put her hands on his shoulders. 

"You're a sweet boy," she said, and Slit saw the tears shining on her cheeks. "And I'm sorry that things turned out this way for us." 

She cupped his cheek in her soft palm for only a moment, and Nux closed his eyes when she leaned in and kissed his forehead. 

"Goodbye," she whispered quietly, and walked from the room. 

Unseen from above, Doof continued to strum and hum his little song, uninterrupted. 

When Nux stumbled back in the direction of the barracks, Slit pounced, shoving his partner back into the wall. 

"What the hell was that?!" he hissed in Nux's surprised face. "Do you want to die?!" 

"W-what?" Nux asked. "No?" 

Slit shook him hard. "We're not to _touch_ her; what were you thinking?" 

Nux frowned in confusion. "But she was crying..." 

"I don't care if she was dancing naked on the ceiling! We don't touch Joe's property-" 

"We _are_ Joe's property!" Nux replied, pushing Slit's hands off. "Sometimes she just wants someone to talk to, is all." 

Slit's head spun. "Someti- you've _done this before_?!" 

Nux shrugged again. "She says Doof's music is the only thing that helps at all. But she never tells me what's the matter to begin with. I just don't understand why she's always so unhappy." 

There was a hair on Nux's pants. There was _her_ hair on _his partner's trousers._ Slit had never before seen such a blatant death sentence. With shaking fingers, he picked it off and threw it aside. Then he slapped Nux across the face with the back of his hand as hard as he could. His hand came away bloody: Nux's lip had split. 

"Ah!" the younger boy cried, then clapped a hand over his own mouth to muffle the sound. "Slit!" 

Holding him by the throat, Slit dragged him forward against his chest, squeezing him so hard he must be forcing the breath from his lungs. 

"Never again, got that?" he asked his partner. If he held him tight enough, maybe Nux wouldn't notice him shaking. "Never, ever again. The wives are off-limits, understand?" 

Slowly, Nux nodded. "U-understood." 

**###**

Just shy of three hundred days later, the heavily pregnant Darling set down her water pail, tucked a rose behind her ear, and, smiling serenely, walked off the roof of the Citadel. 

Two War Boys fell to their deaths trying to catch her and they were found like that, their pale bodies curved around her dark one, not a breath in their lungs. 

Doof played a constant stream of music for three days after that, never stopping for food or rest. Joe was nowhere to be seen. 

On the third day the Down Belowers began pleading, unheard, for water. 

On the fourth day, a magnified voice echoed up from below. 

"Joe!" shouted the Bullet Farmer. "Where is my daughter?" 

The revving of many engines outside chilled Slit to the bone.


	5. Chapter 5

The pups, well-trained for moments of war declaration, didn't waste any time helping War Boys arm for battle and march out the doors of the Citadel, two by two. Then the Mechanic escorted them to the nearest Barrack where they huddled in groups of five inside the lowest bunks. 

Nux's leg was jiggling with nerves, his dirty bare feet twitching on the stone floor. They were crammed so close that Slit could feel the bones in his knee moving against his side. Growling, he slammed a hand on Nux's knee and pinned it down. 

"S'awright," the Mechanic told the worried faces. "This'll all be fixed in a jiffy. No worries." 

But he was worried, they could all see it in his eyes. And so the pups were worried as well. 

"C'mon now, why the long faces? Furiosa will-" 

He was interrupted by a War Boy running up to him from the doorway and putting a hand on his shoulder. The Boy was panting heavily, sweat gleaming on his face. 

"There's a couple of Pups stuck outside, sir," the Boy told the mechanic, looking anxious. "Trapped on the lift. Somethin's happened to the chain an' we can't raise or lower it, but it's too high for them to jump... they're right in the middle of everything." 

"Which ones?" the Mechanic asked, alarmed. He turned to look at all the pups before him, counting faces. The Boy shrugged. 

"I don't know, that new one? Cute face, kinda chubby" 

Nux lurched up, eyes wide. 

"You mean Go?" he asked the Boy, who looked at him as if only just noticing the pups were there. He licked his dry lower lip. 

"Y-yeah, I guess." 

There was the loud boom of a cannon outside and several Pups cried out in fear. 

Slit knew what Nux was going to do half a second before he did it. He reached for his partner, but it was too late; Nux was up and darting between the Mechanic's legs as fast as he could run, sprinting for the stairs. 

Cursing, Slit chased after him but was caught by the Mechanic, who held him by the scruff of the neck. 

"Don't go outside!" the man warned. The rat-a-tat discharge of a machine gun was all they could hear. 

"He's my partner!" Slit snapped, and twisted to clamp his teeth into the Mechanic's forearm. 

The man cried out and his grip loosened, and before anyone could stop him he wriggled free and chased after Nux, who was already halfway to the mouth of the Citadel. 

"Nux!" he shouted after the retrating form. "Stop!" 

"Don't follow me!" Nux replied, and then disappeared into the bright daylight. Foregoing the stairs, Slit hauled himself up the moldy pipes on the walls fast as he could, hearing them groan under his weight. 

The smell of gunpowder only grew stronger as he dragged himself with aching arms to the sacred podium where Joe released rations of water once a day. Nux was leaning against a stone pillar and peering down, a hand shielding his eyes. 

There was another cannon blast. 

"Get down!" Slit snarled, throwing himself on top of his partner and covering his ears. The Citadel shook to its very foundation. 

"Help!" a familiar voice called from below. "Help us!" 

"Go," Nux wheezed, working to wriggle his way out from under Slit. "And Von. They're trapped on the lift- there's a kink in the chain." 

He pointed up and Slit followed his finger, seeing how the counterweight where the four chains converged at the crank to raise and lower vehicles was twisted, tangled, trapping the platform two stories above the ground. 

There was more gunfire and a lot of shouting, and they both heard Go scream. 

Bucking Slit off of himself, Nux ran towards the edge of the precipice and jumped. 

The cry that was torn almost violently from Slit's throat rang in his ears. He surged after his partner, already knowing it was too late, and felt light-headed from relief when he saw that Nux was sliding down one of the chains and onto the lift and not, as he'd feared, caught in a free fall. 

Slit briefly considered his options before he, too, threw himself onto the nearest chain, thick as his arm, and began hauling himself, hand-over-hand, to the top to begin picking at the kink with tools from his pockets. 

"Go!" he heard Nux shout below him. "Go, come on! Wake up!" 

He resisted the urge to look down. When he'd finally fixed the chains, the lift gave a mighty lurch and fell several feet, nearly knocking Slit from his perch with its erratic bouncing and shuddering. Then he too slid down the chain so quickly his hands burned and landed too hard on the swaying platform. 

Ten feet below them, it was complete bedlam. War Boy and Bullet Warrior alike battled ferociously with guns and knives and nails and teeth; on a tank overseeing it all, the Bullet Farmer himself watched impassively. The air was filled with screams and grunts and always, always the ringing of gunfire. 

Slit saw Nux supporting Go in his arms. The other boy was bleeding profusely, though where the blood was coming from, Slit couldn't see. Von, Go's partner, was shaking violently, eyes enormous. 

"Put him on my back," Slit said, kneeling and holding his arms out behind himself like wings. Nux balked. 

"You can't climb up _and_ carry him!" he said, and Slit growled. 

"Well, what do you propose we do, then? It's not as if we've got time to twiddle our thumbs." 

Little Von held an arm up. "I'll go," he squeaked. "I'll climb up and raise you all. I can-" 

There was another shot, and the Pup was stopped mid sentence. He looked down, puzzled, at the red dot blooming in the center of his chest. 

Then he collapsed. 

There was no other word for it- Nux _roared._ Setting Go down he ran to the edge of the platform and threw himself off, before landing heavily on the nearest Bullet Farm Warrior and sending them both rolling. 

Slit stood to run after him but slipped; the platform was running slick with blood and now his bare feet were coated in the stuff. He scrabbled to the edge of the platform and looked down. Nux was kneeling with his knee crushing the Warrior's windpipe and the man struggled, purple-faced, to push him away. 

As if in slow motion Slit noticed another Warrior look up, scowl, and raise a pistol towards Nux. 

Then time seemed to skip. Slit didn't expressly recall jumping. One moment, he was on the platform. The next, he was landing hard and throwing punches. 

In half a second he was pushing the gun away from himself; then he had a rock in his hand. And then the rock- which was in his hand- was partially buried inside the Warrior's skull and he found himself staring into glassy, dead eyes. 

"Slit! Slit!" From far away he heard Nux's voice, and then hands were on his waist, his shoulders, yanking him back. 

He came back to the surface of the moment in a rush of color and sound, and gasped loudly. 

They were in the middle of a battlefield, soaked in blood, surrounded by a ring of armed and enraged Bullet Warriors. 

"On your knees, pup!" one shouted, gesturing with the gun. 

Slit spat on his boots. He was acutely aware of the warrior's finger on the trigger mere inches from his face. 

Roughly, he shoved Nux behind himself and stretched to cover his partner's body with his own. In that one moment, he allowed himself to be grateful for Nux's rapid heartbeat against his back. He'd never felt more alive. 

"Witness me," he whispered, and closed his eyes. 

Then... 

"Aargh!" 

A large shape flew over them, catching the Warrior in the chest with two heavy boots. The figure rolled to a crouch with a gun in each hand, pointing in opposite directions. 

"Are you really going to break our contract?" Furiosa said. And she was speaking quietly, but the world seemed to soften just to hear her voice. Everyone listened when Furiosa talked. "To intentionally harm a pup is against all code of conduct." 

"These two are no innocents," wheezed the Warrior under her feet. "They killed Walson and Shia!" 

"They killed Von and Go!" Nux retorted, and Slit could tell just by the sound of his thick voice that he was crying. "Shot them like crows in the sky, like they were _nothing!_ " 

Furiosa turned her steely gaze on them, and for a moment all was still. Then she called some names and seemingly out of nowhere two War Boys appeared. 

"Take the pups inside," she told them. "And then return for the ones on the lift. Anyone who gives you a hard time while you do this will answer to me." 

"Yes, Furiosa," they agreed, and Slit found himself hauled over a meaty shoulder, an arm at the crook of his knees keeping him in place as he was carried away. War Boy and Bullet Warrior alike parted to allow them safe passage back into the Citadel. 

The War Boy carrying Slit set him down once they reached the main hallway, kneeling with his arms on his shoulders to look him over. 

"You hurt?" he asked, and Slit stopped to reasess. His palms had been cut on the chain, and his knees and ankles throbbed dully; he'd almost certainly sprained something. There was blood drying on his chest and something worse- something squishy- between his fingers. He shook his head no, and then looked over the Boy's shoulder to watch Nux get briefly examined. 

"Stay inside," the older of the two Boys ordered, and then they were alone in the eerily quiet Citadel. 

Slit fell back against the wall, breathing heavily. His heart was still beating so quickly he feared it might burst. 

Of course Nux couldn't keep quiet for long. 

"You," he said, sounding breathless. "You were ready to die back there. You were protecting me." 

Slit said nothing, but finched when a gentle hand touched his arm. 

So quietly that it might just have been Slit's immagination, Nux muttered a quiet, "thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this any good at all? I feel like I suck at writing action scenes. I went over it a bunch of times so hopefully it was at least somewhat cohesive? ^_^;;
> 
> I kinda like to think the Citadel has a sort of knighthood system, based on age/experience (where very young Pups are pages, then the tweenage ones are squires, and when they're 15/16 (if they live that long) they become War Boys (knights.) (Except not really because knights live by a code. Forget this metaphor.)


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m tellin’ you; Furiosa climbed onto the Bullet Farmer’s tank and just _talked_ to him. And then he called his Warriors off!”

”You’re full of shit. That didn’t happen.” 

”Well, why do _you_ think they left, then?” 

”Because she gave them six hundred gallons of fresh water, stupid.” 

”I heard it was eight hundred!” 

”Well, whatever it was, it sure impressed Immortan. I heard he’s going to make her his Imperator.” 

”Furiosa? The Imperator? But she’s a one-armed _teenager._ ” 

”Well, yeah, but she’s _Furiosa._ ” 

”You may have a point…” 

The Citadel was buzzing with gossip after all was said and done, the Bullet Farm Warriors only specks in the distance as they towed their bartered water behind them. It had been a remarkably quick battle, with only one casualty. 

When Nux and Slit went to visit Go in the medic’s quarters, he was seated with his leg bound stiffly in front of him, woozy from blood loss but otherwise on his way to recovery: the bullet had gone straight through his thigh and had narrowly missed an artery. But however well he was doing in health, he was very low in spirits. 

”Von is dead,” he said, when they sat down on either side of him. “Didn’t even have a chance.” 

Nux tucked his knees under his chin. He must’ve grown taller, Slit realized, watching his trouser legs lift to reveal several inches of ankle. Not so very long ago, those trousers had been too big on him. 

“I know,” he said quietly. He tipped his head and rested it on Go’s shoulder. He glanced over at Slit, only moving his eyes, and Slit realized he was meant to say something. 

”He’s in Valhalla now,” Slit said after a moment of thought. “Where every warrior goes if they die in battle.” 

Go picked at his bandage, unconsoled. “I wish he were still here.” 

”Hey,” Nux tried for a smile. “You’ll see him again. Sooner or later.” 

The injured boy only sighed, tipping his head so that it rested on top of Nux’s. He squeezed his eyes closed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. A tear fell, hot and fast, despite his best efforts to prevent it. It slid warmly over the crown of Nux’s skull. “I guess.” 

**###**

The Pups weren’t quick to let the subject of Nux, Slit, and Go’s adventures on the battlefield drop. Slit just shrugged off the questions, but when someone excitedly asked Nux how it felt to kill someone, he froze, something tight in his face. 

”I could show you right now,” Slit replied, giving Nux time to slip away by cracking his knuckles in the pup’s face. The Pup quickly backed down, stammering out an excuse to leave. 

Though normally they preferred to keep a small amount of space between them as they slept, that night Nux pressed into Slit’s chest, the hairs beginning to grow on his head- they needed to shave, again- prickly against Slit’s chin. 

Nux wasn’t crying, not exactly, but he was shaking. Slit had no idea how to read anything about Nux just then, and so he didn’t try; just held perfectly still while the boy’s hands clenched and unclenched around his wrists. He wondered if he should be more upset that he’d killed someone hours before. He wondered if he was as crazy as the Down Belowers said. 

At around dawn, Nux finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep, his forehead burrowed into Slit’s chest, listening to his partner’s heart beat. Slit drifted off shortly after. 

The afternoon sun was high in the sky by the time he woke again, and found that the fingers of his right hand had been intertwined with his partner’s all night. 

Life at the Citadel resumed to normal after that. The same chores, the same food. Nux, though, something was off about Nux. The circles under his eyes had grown more pronounced, and there was something gone in his eyes. A spark had been snuffed out. He was quieter than before, asked fewer questions. 

Slit told himself that it was for the best. 

About four months after the Bullet Farm’s attack, breakfast was interrupted by a group of scouting Boys, who stormed through the main hall with a bound and shaking figure trapped between them. 

She looked to be even younger than Furiosa, with bits of colorful cloth braided into her bushy brown hair, and she had three parallel blue lines tattooed across her nose and cheekbones. The rope gag in her mouth had rubbed the corners of her lips raw, and her wrists looked bruised under their constraints. She was shivering violently, as though very cold. 

”Look at this dessert flower we picked up on our travels today!” said the leader of the Boys, eyes wild and crackling with excitement. He grabbed the girl’s shoulder and gave her a bit of a shake; she made a noise and attempted to move away from his hand, but there was nowhere to go. “I bet she’ll take Joe’s mind off his troubles, eh?” 

There was raucous cheering and applause, and then the four scouts, one on each side of her, began dragging her up the stairs. The noise she made as they disappeared from sight was, unmistakably, a sob of fury and defeat. 

Slit risked a glance at Nux and was somewhat surprised to see the boy staring resolutely at his breakfast tray, his face a blank canvas. He did not look up at the girl, and he didn’t look over at Slit, either. 

He’d finally learned to leave Joe’s property alone, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small transitory chapter before we prepare for a small time jump in the next one.
> 
> Nux, bby... :(


	7. Chapter 7

"You can't fall off this early, Slit! The fun's just begun!" 

Slit gripped harder onto Tip's trousers and gritted his teeth. Standing on top of a moving vehicle was harder than the older War Boys made it look. There were so many rules to it- _you are a branch, not a metal rod; you bend with the breeze_ and, _Never hold still; if you're constantly moving, you're less likely to fall._ And that wasn't even to mention the things to remember if you _did_ fall ("And you will, Slit. You'll fall a _lot._ ") Roll _with_ the motion, protect your head, avoid the wheels at all costs... 

Underneath their heels the car gave a gut-wrenching jerk; Slit's arms pinwheeled and he felt the fall in his gut before a hand clapped down on his neck, hauling him back up. 

"Hang in there!" Tip advised him, chucking his cheek. He slammed his foot down twice on top of the Volkswagen they were surfing. "Easy in there, Nux!" 

Muffled inside the car, they heard Nux reply, "Sorry..." 

"Why." Slit said as they bumped over uneven gravel. "Can't we just. Be tied. To the car. Like Pole Cats?" 

"Good question!" Tip said. He stuck his hand down the front of Slit's pants. Before Slit had time to react to that, Tip body slammed him, knocking him off the back of the Volkswagen. 

With his head mere inches from the rear wheels, Slit felt his face freeze into place, mouth open, incapable of uttering a sound. He hung there for an eternity or longer before, hand-over-hand, Tip hauled him back up. 

"If you're tied to the car," Tip said. "You'll be dragged. Better to fall and _maybe_ not break your neck then fall and get your face ground off. Got it?" 

Slit just stared at his mentor, open-mouthed. He was fairly certain every single one of his organs had fallen out, as he was cold and empty inside and out. He tried to speak and only made a small squeak. 

Tip patted his cheek. "Good boy," he said, and then thumped the roof of the Volkswagen with his fist. "Nux! Pull over." 

There was an earsplitting scream of breaks and the car went into a fishtail spin as the War Boy in-training attempted to pull over on the uneven surface. And oh, if Slit had a voice to scream... 

Tip threw an arm over Slit and pinned him down, chest to chest. He was making a noise barely audible over the crunch and grind of metal and stone: Slit dimly realized that the older Boy was laughing maniacally. 

The car tipped to its side, threatened to roll over, and then seemed to think better of it and settled once again on all four wheels. Still laughing, Tip stood and jumped off, leaving Slit splayed over the car and staring up at the cloudless sky. 

"Some fun, huh, kid?" he asked, throwing open the door and bowing dramatically as Nux stepped out of the drivers' seat on shaking legs. "How are you holding up, Crown?" 

Nux's mentor, a hulking giant of a Driver, grunted an answer. Reaching up, he grabbed Slit from under the arms and half-dragged, half-lifted him from his perch. Slit was saved only from falling on his face by Nux's quick catch, and for a long moment he stood boneless, supported completely by his partner. 

"Oh come on," Nux laughed uncertainly. "My driving wasn't that bad, was it?" 

Rolling his head to the side, Slit fixed his partner with a look that made Nux blush and stammer out an apology. 

"But I mean," Nux babbled. "Okay, it wasn't great. But for my first time behind the wheel it was... okay, from one to ten, how bad _was_ it?" 

"I need to sit down," Slit finally managed to choke. 

"Sure, sure! Of course!" Ever-helpful, Nux pushed Slit into the now-empty drivers' seat, where he sat, chest-heaving, and tried desperately to not look at the many overlapping skid marks in the sand. If he thought about that, he'd think of all the unnecessary loops and swerves they'd driven and- 

"If you're going to puke, you'd better not do it in my car," Crown warned, so Slit stuck his head between his knees, breathing out hard through his nose. Nux, fretting, rubbed his bare back vigorously, his nails gently scritching that hard-to-reach itchy spot between Slit's shoulder blades. 

"I don't know, Crown," Tip said pensively. "I just don't know if these two are cut out to be a Driver and a Lancer. It's okay, boys; you're skilled mechanics and can provide plenty of service for _real_ War Boys." 

Slit's head shot up so fast that he felt his blood pressure surge in his temples and small black dots briefly flickered over his vision. He fixed his mentor with a steady glare. 

"What." It wasn't a question. 

Tip shrugged. He'd done something interesting with the black pigmentation meant for only his eyes, dusting the tops of his shoulders and shoulder blades with it, giving himself a freshly-dipped look. He was, Slit had decided upon first meeting him, not entirely terrible to look at. 

"I'm just saying," he said, waving a hand carelessly in the air. "If you can't handle a little bouncing, you're just not meant to be a Lancer." 

"And if you can't even manage a simple three-point turn," Crown told Nux, "Then you have no business behind any wheel." 

Slit glanced over at his partner. Nux's mouth was parted in a small, pink 'o' of surprise; his eyes were the most enormous, pathetic thing he'd ever seen. 

Gritting his teeth, Slit surged to his feet. "Listen here, you," he snapped, and then swayed to the side (Nux was quick to catch him and hold him up.) "My partner did not spend the last six years of his half-life praying to be a Driver just to get turned down on his first day out." 

"It's okay," Nux said quietly in his ear. "Let's just go back..." 

Slit held his hand out to silence his partner. "No!" he said. He felt slightly wobbly now as he pulled out of Nux's arms and advanced towards the team of more experienced Driver and Lancer. "No. I refuse to take that for an answer. He _is_ my Driver; I _am_ his Lancer, and we are _going _to ride to Valhalla. _Together._ " __

"Slit..." Nux breathed. 

The smile that spread over Tip's face was both pleased and predatory, a baring of teeth more than an expression of joy. He cocked his head, surveyed the young teenagers before him. When Crown gave a nod, Tip said the three words that Slit wanted to hear most: 

"Then _prove_ it."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It started to get long, so this one's gonna be a two-parter.

Dawn was just beginning to break over the Citadel, and Nux and Slit had been up for hours, preparing for their big day. 

Now, as the first hints of pink and orange sunlight streaked the endless wasteland of sand, the others began to arrive. 

”You’re not nervous, are you, Slit?” asked Nux, who was jiggling his leg so quickly that Lofn herself was shaking. Lofn, the Coupe he’d rebuilt from the axles up, working hours a day for well over eighteen months to sand, weld, and polish to perfection. When, three nights previous, he’d finally installed the brake and gas pedals (emblazoned, respectfully, “Slit” and “Nux”), he’d just about burst into tears of joy. “Because it’s okay if you’re nervous. It’d almost be normal if you were scared. _I_ wouldn’t judge you if you wanted to postpone this for another day or so-“ 

”Stop it.” Slit put a hand on Nux’s knee, a touch gentler than normal. “You’ll shake us both apart. We’re fine.” 

Bereft of a leg to twitch, Nux began popping his knuckles, one at an agonizing time. “We’ve got everything, right?” he babbled. “We’re wearing our scarves. We haven’t eaten in twelve hours in case we need emergency surgery.” He peered at Slit’s face. “You _haven’t_ eaten, right?” 

Slit, who flinched every time a new knuckle was popped, growled and grabbed his Driver’s wrist. “I said _stop_ it. We’re fine. No, I haven’t eaten. Yes, we have everything. We’re doing this today or never, Nuts.” 

Nux swallowed, then nodded gravely. He somehow managed to look paler than ever under his clay. 

The roar of a motor nearby made them both look up: Ace, on his motorcycle, came neatly to a stop just before where they sat inside Lofn, door open so that they could keep flex their toes in the sand. 

”A’right,” he said, all business, not bothering to question why the Lancer-to-be was currently half on top of the anxiety-ridden Driver. “So. Names?” 

They’d given them several days before when they’d asked to be allowed to try out as War Boys, but they didn’t hesitate in giving them again. “I’m Slit,” he said, self consciously taking his hand off of Nux’s leg. “And this is my Driver, Nux.” 

”Right,” Ace nodded. “Blackthumbs?” 

Nux looked too shell-shocked to answer such a high-ranking member of Joe’s army, so Slit continued to do all the talking. “Yes. Me since birth; Nux since Furiosa brought him in at age eight. This is our vehicle, Lofn.” He gave Nux a hard nudge in the guts at that: surely the Driver could talk about his own masterpiece. 

”R-r-right,” Nux stammered, and stood, dragging Slit up with him. “Lofn is a 1932 Deuce Coupe. As you can see, I’ve customized a lancer’s perch and several holsters for grenades for Slit, and-“ 

One by one he led Ace through a thorough examination of the car. Even though the older War Boy didn’t react much to what he was saying, Slit got the distinct impression that he was listening keenly. And talking about Lofn seemed to soothe Nux’s frayed nerves, anyhow. 

”Got it,” Ace said, once the aspiring Driver fell silent. “I’m obligated to go over the rules with you one last time, so let’s get this over with. You’ve both got your scarves-“he gestured to the deep green scarves both Lancer and Driver wore around their throats. “As do your opponents. Because Tip and Crown were the ones who trained you, you must be able to best them in a combat situation. Using weapons no higher than grade three-“ he gave the grenades on Lofn a scathing glance; Nux quickly removed them and set them aside- “you are to remove the scarves around _their_ throats instead. It’s all or nothing: if either of you loses your scarves or you don’t manage to succeed within an hours’ time, you will have failed. Do you understand?” 

Nux opened his mouth, but only a faint squeak left his lips. Slit cleared his throat, crouched respectfully, and bared the crown of his head to his Superior. “Yes, sir!” he said. “We understand.” 

Smiling obligingly, Ace gave Slit a none-too-gentle headbutt. “Good! I hope to see you succeed.” 

And then he was back on his motorcycle and gone as abruptly as he’d came, driving back towards the Citadel. 

Once he was gone, Nux made a tiny sound of distress and fell face-first against Slit’s chest. “It’s all over,” he muttered, beating his head repeatedly against the hard wall of muscle that was Slit’s torso. “It’s all over. We’ll never be chrome. We’ll-“ 

On hearing the familiar rumble of the Volkswagen approaching, Slit grabbed Nux’s shoulders and forced him away. “Stand up straight,” he hissed. “Are you a War Boy or not?” 

”I’m-“ Nux cleared his throat. At Slit’s intense gaze, he said, “I’m a War Boy!” 

The Volkswagen, with Tip astride the hood looking for all the world like a historic statue, slid evenly to a stop before the cone that marked its place. 

”Not yet, you’re not!” said Tip, barely swaying as he cockily stepped off the hood of the car and leaned against it, long throat obscured by his crimson scarf. “Gotta earn that, Pup.” 

There was something _about_ Tip, Slit couldn’t put his finger on what, exactly, but it just drew his eye. Perhaps it was just the way he obnoxiously made his stomach muscles look deeper by tracing them with dark powder, or the way the swell of his left hip, ever jutting at an angle, was always visible from his low-strung trousers. It was… it was _annoying._

Slit licked his lips before replying, “A’right, Tip?” he gave an awkward nod of his head at his mentor. His voice sounded funny even in his own ears; Nux shot him an unreadable look. 

Tip’s grin, catlike as the rest of him, deepened. He jerked his chin. “Not bad.” 

Crown unrolled the window, and looked out to nod at his opponents. “Remember your training,” he said in his slow, deep voice. 

From his observatory perch in the Citadel tower, Corpus’ magnified voice rang down upon them. 

”At the mark,” he called. 

”Oh fuck,” Nux whimpered; his blue eyes were enormous in his skull-like face, hands shaking frantically again. “Slit…” 

There wasn’t time for this. Slit pushed Nux into the driver’s seat, slamming the door closed behind him. He pressed a kiss to Lofn’s frame, patted her twice, and then jumped up to his lancer’s perch with the ease of over a years’ worth of practice. 

Tip blew him a kiss, and Slit felt something like moth wings flutter in his insides. He scowled back at the other Lancer but ended up imitating him in sliding goggles over his eyes, the scarf over his mouth. 

”Three…” said Corpus. “Two…” 

Lofn’s dual, nitro-boosted box engines purred like a contented kitten under Slit’s booted feet. Well, he conceded, a very large, bad-tempered, slightly emphysemic cat. But purring nonetheless. 

”One!” 

With the squealing of tires and the stench of burning rubber, they were off. Crown steered towards them immediately, head-on; Nux was forced to spin to avoid an immediate collision and he put on a burst of speed from the start, leaving Slit swinging from his post as if on a great ship’s mast, feet dangling in the air. He quickly righted himself by hooking a leg over it, throwing his free arm in the air. 

”For Joe!” he roared, because he knew, he just knew, exactly what his partner needed to hear just then. “For Immortan Joe!” 

And it seemed to do the trick: Nux eased up on the gas and threw Lofn into reverse. She made such delightfully sharp turns. Slit actually spun halfway around the pole from her momentum before he was able to climb higher, keep a wary eye on the Volkswagen which was approaching them again. 

He stomped once on Lofn’s hood. _Forward._

They charged her as she charged them. Slit got a satisfying glimpse of surprise on Tip’s rapidly approaching face before he was flying through the air and landing heavily atop the roof of the Volkswagen where he had done so much training; he felt his boots leave dents in her metal. Before Tip had a moment to turn around, Slit slid in behind him and grabbed for the knot of the scarf at the nape of his mentor’s neck. 

”No, you don’t, Tricky Dick,” Tip laughed, hopping away as sprightly as a grasshopper. “Nice try.” 

When he gripped the frame of the Volkswagen, Crown surged forward and then, just as quickly, slammed on the brakes, upsetting Slit’s balance: on reflex from the many hours with his trainer, Slit grabbed Tip around the waist to keep his balance. 

”Why thank you, darlin’,” Tip laughed, clamping an arm around Slit’s shoulders and pressing a kiss to his temple through the scarf over his mouth. “What a nice opening.” 

Slit felt fingers scrabbling under the scarf around his neck. With his arm pinned to his side and Crown stopping and starting so violently, fighting back was unbearably difficult. He turned his head and sank his teeth into Tip’s shoulder, and the War Boy’s grip loosened significantly, giving Slit room to clamber back atop the car. 

He and Tip surveyed one another, panting for breath. 

From seemingly out of nowhere, Lofn rear-ended the Volkswagen, sending both Tip and Slit tumbling from the top to land in the pillowy sand below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The spectacular [Rannef](http://rannef-art.tumblr.com/) made a really cool fanart for this story that you should totally check out [here](http://tinypic.com/view.php?pic=2cops46&s=8#.VWujr89Viko)! (I love it; poor Slit!)
> 
> I just had to name the Coupe [Lofn,](http://www.thewhitegoddess.co.uk/divinity_of_the_day/norse/lofn.asp) okay? D-don't judge me.
> 
>  
> 
> Tip and Crown's backstory is here, if you're interested. [here.](http://tipyourlancer.tumblr.com/post/121701960842/about-crown-specifically-crowns-backstory-and)


	9. Chapter 9

They rolled several feet down the dune until Slit, his hand fisted tightly in Tip's scarf, dragged his feet to a halt. 

Tip, mouth exposed, looked up at Slit and gave a grin. 

"Well, isn't this fun?" he said. He reached up and cupped Slit's cheek in his hand. "Looks like you got me; too bad." 

Slit felt the War Boy slide a leg over his, pinning his calf down. 

Tip's eyes were green, and Slit found it hard to look away from the flecks of gold in them. He hadn't seen a lot of green things in his life; it was just _interesting,_ was all. 

The click of a knife behind his ear was so soft he almost missed it until he felt something scrape clumsily into the knot of his scarf, nicking the thin skin of his ear; the angle was too strained to be a perfect cut. 

"You-!" he gasped, and forget a _tom cat;_ Tip's grin just then was pure crocodile, pleased as punch. 

Slit tried to rear back, but the point of the tiny knife against the nape of his neck froze him in place. 

"You know, I'm a little disapointed," said Tip, pouting. "I wasted a year and a half training you for nothing. I thought you were better than that." 

And then the pout was gone and the same manic grin was firmly back in place, as if it had never budged at all. "But I can think of plenty other uses for you and Nux. Do you think he'll cry with those big baby blues when his pretty lips are stretched around Crown's-" 

There was a squealing of breaks and an avalanche of sand that sent Tip and Slit rolling; the knife point against Slit's spine fell away and, all mercy lost in a burst of surprising anger, he shot a fist without restraint into the smaller man's solar plexus. 

There was a slam of a car door and, before Tip could even roll over, Nux's boot was planted firmly on his chest. 

"Get away from my Lancer," Nux snarled, lip curled in an expression so unlike himself that Slit's head cocked. 

Tip wheezed for breath when Nux bent to snatch the blade out of his hand and tossed it to Slit. "Quick," he said. "I tricked Crown onto the main road- he still thinks I'm driving East- but he'll be back once he figures it out." 

Slit could have cried- no, he could have _kissed_ his Driver. "Thanks, Nuts!" he said, beaming. "You're brilliant." 

With a quick upward motion he sliced the crimson scarf off of his mentor's neck and stuffed it, triumphantly, into one of his pockets. 

Tip, still struggling for breath after the heavy punch, shakily raised his hand and offered them a thumbs up. He was, miraculously, still smiling. 

"Well done," he wheezed. "I'm proud." 

The aspiring team regarded him for half a moment. 

"Do you think we should take him back to the Citadel?" Slit asked. "I don't think he can walk-" 

Nux scowled at Slit, an expression about as effective as a growl from a puppy. "No," he said hotly. "I think he can walk _just fine._ Let's go." 

As Nux dragged Slit back to Lofn, Tip made a gurgling sound: it took Slit too long to realize that the Lancer was laughing. 

This time, Slit rode standing in Lofn's back seat, his arms braced as his head and chest stuck out of the sun roof, scanning the horizon for any sign of the Volkswagen. Tip may have been bold and fearless, but Crown was patient and _clever._

"Your scarf's hanging on by a thread," Nux warned him. "That schlanger really did a number on it." 

Slit was quick to find the tear in the fabric and re-tie it. 

They drove east, in the direction Nux had lost Crown. 

"I'm gonna try to get his blind side," Nux said. "His right eye is glass. And-" 

Something hit them hard from behind; Slit lost his balance and fell back into Lofn, head reeling. There was a crunch and a horrible cry from the driver's seat. 

Spinning around, Slit saw that, from seemingly out of nowhere, Crown had appeared and rear-ended them, at an angle so as not to be seen from the rearview mirrors. 

Nux whimpered piteously and, crawling forward into the passengers' seat, Slit saw why: blood ran in streams from the Drivers' nose. 

"I broke it on th' _wheel!_ " Nux exclaimed, and spat out some blood. 

"Okay." Slit had had enough; his voice came out more angry and forceful than he intended. "Screw this. I'm gonna-" 

They were rammed forward again. 

"Lofn!" Nux yelped, more worried for his precious car than his broken nose. "Oh, I'm gonna string him up by his _entrails._ " 

He slammed on the gas pedal to surge ahead of the sturdier, but slower, Volkswagen. Then, in one of the wickedly sharp turns he'd long perfected, he swiveled one hundred and eighty degrees; Slit banged his head on the back seat. 

"A little _warning, _next time, Nuts?" he griped, holding his head.__

"Nux wasn't listening; he was cursing a blue streak, using language Slit hadn't even known Nux _knew._

They were surging into a head-on collision, and they were so close that Slit could see the shock in Crown's normally placid, enigmatic face. 

"Hold on!" Nux shouted, and with a tremendous crash and a bone-jarring tremor, Lofn's front bumper struck the Volkswagen head-on. 

There was a long moment of silence before Nux opened his mouth to speak, but Slit cut him off. 

"You're crazy," Slit said, staring at his Driver incredulously, pressing a hand over his own furiously racing heart. "You're _actually_ crazy..." 

"Oh, just go get the scarf," Nux grouched. "My face hurts." 

"Our _everything_ is gonna hurt tomorrow," Slit correctly predicted, but he climbed up, through the sun roof, and landed on shaking legs back in the sand. 

Lofn's front end was partially inserted into the Volkswagen, and she was steaming alarmingly, but Slit detected no stench of gasoline, and her engines looked alright. It would be months of repair, though. 

The Volkswagen, on the other hand... 

Hustling to the shattered windshield, Slit peered inside, actually afraid for a minute what he might see. He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he saw that Crown was not only breathing, but conscious. 

"Did you hit your head?" he asked, wasting no time in unsheathing his knife and reaching for the crimson scarf. 

"Yeah," Crown grunted, and Slit saw that his pupils were dilated. His face was bleeding heavily from the shattered glass and Slit's insides gave a little squirm of guilt. 

"We'll get you back to the Citadel and all fixed up," Slit promised. "I... I owe you one for this." He quickly removed the scarf and beckoned for Nux to assist him in transferring Crown from the Volkswagen to Lofn's passenger seat. 

Slit stood to the side to direct Nux in backing up, wincing at the screech of metal on metal as they left the Volkswagen behind; Slit's lancer's post, bent in half, gave up the ghost and fell to the sand. 

Slit hopped onto the now-bare hood and they drove back towards the Citadel in silence. 

"How are we doing on time?" Slit asked through the cracked windshield, when their home became visible from the distance. 

"Twelve minutes of our hour left," Nux replied. "Hold on; I'm gonna floor it." 

It turned out that Lofn didn't _like_ being floored, not after all the abuse they'd put her through that day. Slit heard Nux nasally cooing to the dashboard from the inside until they got a decent mileage going again: apparently Lofn was a _"good girl,"_ a _"pretty_ girl", the "best car in the world." 

"Am I a pretty girl too?" asked Slit, smirking. 

"You're tolerable," Nux replied, playfully jerking the car so that Slit had to grab a hot engine to stay astride. The gesture he shot his Driver for that just made Nux giggle, high and euphoric on the last remaining dregs of adrenaline and looking utterly mad with his bleeding, broken nose. 

When they finally pulled back to their starting point, Ace was waiting for them. Slit hopped off the hood and went to face the man. 

"Well?" Ace asked, surveying the heavily damaged Coupe, Nux's broken nose and black eyes, the woozy Crown in their backseat. 

In reply, Slit handed him the two red scarves. 

"Hm," Ace said, looking the ripped fabric over. Uncertainty gnawed at Slit's guts. Had they broken a rule? Returned too late? Was his damaged green scarf a foul? 

Ace stepped to the drivers' side window and made a cranking gesture; obediently, Nux rolled the window down, expression on his face a brace for the worst. 

"Nux?" said Ace. "Slit?" 

They both nodded, hearts sinking. Slit resisted the urge to hang his head: he would take this rejection with dignity. 

Ace smiled broadly, sudden and rare as rainfall. "Congratulations, War Boys. You made it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating will go up for the next chapter for general tomfoolery your grandpa wouldn't approve of (probably): you have been warned. 
> 
> It wasn't made for this story specifically, but [Kukkiisart](http://kukkiisart.tumblr.com/post/120523794328/mugsandpugs-there-you-go-xd-took-forever-i-was) drew me [this](http://kukkiisart.tumblr.com/post/120523794328/mugsandpugs-there-you-go-xd-took-forever-i-was) incredible Nux/Slit art that you should really look at. So much talent! NSFW for nudity, but not explicit.


	10. Chapter 10

That night, Go was waiting for them as they packed up their few belongings and said goodbye to the Pup's bunker, once and for all. 

"I can't believe you two did something so _shiny!"_ he exclaimed, dimples flashing. He surged to headbutt Nux, who hissed in pain as his broken nose-held straight with a strip of black tape- brushed the Pup's cheek. "Congratulations!" 

Go's beaming smile faded after a moment. "It'll be lonely without you, though," he sighed. 

"Ah, don't worry about it," Nux said comfortingly, patting his friend's bald head. "You'll be an incredible War Boy soon. I'd put money on six months, tops." 

Go's smile returned in full-force. Though generally a good-natured Pup, his smiles for Nux were just... different than his smiles for everyone else. Softer, warmer; gaze lingering on his elegant high cheeks, his soft-looking, bow-shaped mouth, his long and dark eyelashes. Slit didn't understand the appeal it at all: Nux was such a bratty, ugly, mouthy, annoying little shit. 

Nux leaned in close again to gently touch foreheads with Go, looking for all the world like a pair of smiling baby goats. There was a small twist in Slit's stomach. Aftershocks from their wild morning making a second appearance. 

"Alright!" Slit said, stepping between them to give Go's broad chest a friendly punch. "Nuts and I have a ceremony to get to. See you around." 

The Pups all called their goodbyes and wishes for good luck as Slit threw a brotherly arm around Nux's shoulders and dragged him quickly from the bunker; when he glanced back, Go was frowning and rubbing the knuckle imprint on his chest. 

A small group of people awaited them at the roof of the Citadel; the strong smell of mint tingled in Slit's nose as he and Nux walked through the hydroponics to reach them. 

Ace, Tip, and the Mechanic all smiled as they approached. "There's our newest War Boys," said the Mechanic. Nux was just shy of bouncing on his toes in pride, his energy almost palpable in the air, and Slit found himself getting caught in it, too. When Nux was happy, he was _infectious._

Slit allowed Ace to step between them, put an arm around both of them. 

"Look down there, Boys," he said, gesturing towards the vast expanse of sun-scorched land before them. "Look at the Fury Road. As you know, our great leader Immortan Joe built this place from the ground up, the Savior of us unworthy dregs of Humanity." 

"Hail Joe," Nux whispered reverently, blue eyes gleaming. 

"Hail Joe," echoed Slit. 

"S'right," agreed the Mechanic, nodding. "There's no going back after today. You are bound to serving Immortan Joe with your very lives and, in return, you will someday walk the sacred chrome halls of Valhalla with him." 

Tears were glittering on Nux's eyelashes, falling gently on his euphorically beaming face. "Yes," he gasped. "Oh glory me; all I've ever wanted." 

Ace stepped back to allow the Mechanic, wielding a thin, wickedly-sharp knife, to approach. Slit watched as, gripping Nux's chin, the Mechanic carved a deep, slanted notch down the length of his lovely cheekbone. Blood welled, and then flowed fast and hot down his face. 

He repeated the process on Slit's left cheek. 

When Lancer and Driver pressed their bleeding, stinging faces together, feeling their blood mingle, something sparked in Slit's fingertips, something awe-inspiring, something bigger than his whole life. 

"By my blood bound," said Nux. Slit, in that moment unable to tell whose pulse was whose, who felt Nux's tears on his skin as if they were his own, replied, "By my deeds I honor him." 

There was something enormous about the moment and Slit felt... filled. Complete in a way he hadn't ever quite managed before. Full-up of a purpose, backed by something so, so much bigger than himself, something that could make the inevitable sickness and frightened nights worth something. 

Together he and Slit whispered their undying promise- to one another, and to Immortan Joe. 

_"I live. I die. I live again."_

**###**

What little moonlight visible in the illicit late-night concert (featuring, naturally, Doof and the Taiko drummers) was magnified simply by the hundreds of writhing, white-painted bodies to reflect off of. 

Moshing in the empty bath, the War Boys dropped any pretense of being humans, slipping easily into their true skins as kami-crazy warriors. Teeth were bared, blood was spilt; heads were tipped back into feral, broken howls. 

Suspended above them all, feeding from the energy of the crowd, Doof tore the night into tiny glass shards that stabbed and sliced, bringing the moon and stars down to earth by the magic of his frenzied fingers on his precious guitar. 

Or at least, Slit assumed that's what was happening. Whatever quickly dissolving substance that had been placed in his mouth upon arrival made thinking rather difficult. 

Nux, who made friends easily, was dragged into a ravenous pile of War Boys leaving Slit to watch the concert from the sidelines. 

A hand came out of nowhere, slapping his ass and making him yelp in alarm. 

"Surprise!" Tip laughed, bumping into Slit's side so hard that Slit struggled to keep his balance; when he stood straight again he found he was supporting Tip's weight in addition to his own, not that he was especially heavy or substantial; the man seemed to be made entirely of knotted string and wicked smiles. "It's only me." 

"I see you're feeling better," Slit grouched, grabbing his mentor's arm as he started to buckle to the ground and hauling him upright again. He just about had to shout in Tip's tattered ear to be heard. "How's Crown?" 

"With the Mechanic," Tip said, pouting his full lower lip like an invitation to be bitten. "He was so mad to miss this- kinda pissed at your boy there for hitting him." 

He jerked his chin towards Nux, who was caught between three War Boys, his head tipped back, throat bared on someone's shoulder as another pill was slipped between his lips. 

Something about the sight- of Nux's arms spread wide, his wrists held down as he moved against pale skin... It was really pissing Slit off. 

"Hang on a second," he grunted to Tip, propping the War Boy against the nearest wall as he approached the edge of the bath. "Nuts!" 

Nux turned his head to look at Slit, squinting as if staring into the sun. "Oh, hi, Shit!" he shouted, waving. "Come dance!" 

Someone's hips ground, obscenely and tactlessly, into Nux's backside. Nux made a little grunt deep in his throat but didn't look especially displeased. 

Flames flickered on the edges of Slit's vision. Must have been the drug finally kicking in. 

Reaching down into the bath, he clamped his hand on Nux's shoulder. "Come up," he ordered. 

"No," Nux protested, and grabbed onto Slit's arm. "Come down!" 

They were caught in a weird game of tug-of-war for roughly one and a half seconds before gravity won out and Slit fell into the bath, crushing Nux underneath him. 

Someone stepped on Slit's hand as he crouched over his Driver and he hissed between his teeth. 

When he opened his eyes, Nux's nose was less than an inch from his own and Slit found himself staring into Nux's eyes, pupils blown so wide that there was hardly a trace of blue left to be seen. The bandage on his cheek matched the one over Slit's own, and the sudden reminder of the blood they now shared made Slit's pulse roar loudly in his ears. 

Quickly Slit stood, dragging Nux up after him. With some careful maneuvering (and a lot of shoving) he managed to get them back to the edge of the tub. Then, lifting Nux by the waist, he pushed him up to the rim of the stone bath. Someone from behind shoved Slit forward and he found himself standing between Nux's spread legs, his Driver's dilated eyes boring directly into his own. 

Slit's throat went very dry. Damn pill. He was definitely asking what people gave him before taking it next time. 

Nux's knees bracketed Slit's arms, holding him in place, and then Nux's hands as well. One came to rest on the back of Slit's neck, the other cupping his Lancer's jaw, gentle, but firm. 

"Slit." He said, and every drop of blood in Slit's body migrated south so quickly that his head spun. He had never heard Nux use that voice before- commanding, authoritative. It was a voice that gave orders and didn't take any back-talk. 

Nux's thumb pressed to Slit's lips, his intense and focused eyes making his intention crystal clear. Unable to deny his Driver, Slit's lips parted, permitting Nux to slide two fingers into his mouth. Slit grunted around the intruding digits, grinding his trouser-covered erection shamelessly against the rough side of the bath. 

" _My_ Lancer," said Nux, the infliction so subtle that it might have been imagined, only it made Slit's pulse skyrocket in his ears, the blood in his veins singing: _yes._

The left corner of Nux's mouth quirked in just the tiniest hint of a smirk as he slid his saliva-coated fingers out of Slit's mouth, and then back in, deeper. 

Overhead, the Taiko drummers seemed to be reaching the climax of their song. They banged relentlessly on their drums, five or six pulses for every one of Slit's heart. Then they stopped, leaving an eerie quiet that only the reverberations of Doof's final riff filled. 

From above, something began to fall. There was an excited cry from the crowd as all hustled to be underneath the sprinkling water and whatever powder was falling. Slit smelled gunpowder just as the first few flakes hit them, and then he understood: it was the powder used for signal flares. 

With their white clay dripping with the stuff, the room was suddenly blooming with color; reds and purples, blues and greens. 

Nux scrambled to his feet and tipped his head back, catching the flakes on his upturned face and bare chest. He turned slowly in a circle and giggled, happy as a child in a field of flowers. 

Gingerly, Slit climbed up after him and stood by his side. Gone was whatever had been gleaming in Nux's eyes only a moment ago; this was the Nux Slit knew- cheerful and enthusiastic, gentle and sweet. 

God how his chest ached just then, seeing the spots of pink and orange freckling Nux's jaw and leaving long smears of color like angel kisses. 

Nux clung to Slit's arm, leaned his head on his chest, smiling fondly up at him with water like raindrops dewing on his eyelashes. 

"Let's go, Slit," he said, stifling a yawn. "I'm sleepy." 

"Yeah," Slit agreed. Even to his own ears, his voice was strained. "Sure." 

He'd never been good at saying no to Nux.


	11. Chapter 11

Nux’s hands were lovely things- long-fingered and slender, and surprisingly delicate-looking despite their many calluses and near-perpetual grease stains. 

And now that Nux was asleep, as-ever on his side, facing Slit, Slit found his attention drawn by them. Using the weak sunlight filtering in through the skylight, Slit carefully took Nux’s wrist in his hand. His Driver didn’t react, which wasn’t surprising- they were all accustomed to some jostling during sleep- and held it closer to his eyes, just looking. 

Making sure Nux wasn’t awake, Slit tentatively pressed their fingertips together, one at a time, comparing: his hands were much bigger, and less knobby-looking. No wonder Nux was so much better with fine detail work under a car’s hood. 

Slit pressed Nux’s hand against his cheek and sighed, turning his nose into the wrist. Nux was _soft._

“Hey.” 

Slit startled when he heard his partner’s voice, saw hints of blue peeking at him from under long eyelashes. He dropped Nux’s hand and made to scoot back, though there wasn’t much ‘back’ to scoot to before he was against the stone wall. 

Nux frowned. “You didn’t have to stop,” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled about why his Lancer was so flustered. “That felt nice.” 

Slit’s brain felt remarkably full of cotton just then. He licked his lower lip nervously. “It… it did?” 

“Sure,” Nux shrugged, and passed his hand back over to Slit. “Don’t stop on my account.” He closed his eyes and settled his cheek back onto his other hand, holding still as a porcelain statue. 

Feeling unaccountably nervous, Slit just looked at the hand he’d been given. Nux’s veins, bluey-green and thin as spider-silk, were barely visible under his clay, but Slit could see them now as he looked close. Putting a finger on one, he traced it up Nux’s arm, stopping at the crook of his elbow. He rubbed over the plush skin there with the back of his thumb, then back down to the bony wrist, marveling in the difference in texture. How many times had he grabbed onto Nux before without really noticing? 

There was touching, Slit decided- bumps and taps and prods, even quick, desperate fumbles in the dark that he sometimes overheard from his bunk now that he and Nux were living in the War Boys’ barracks. But then there was _touching,_ this deliberate thing with a purpose that he couldn’t quite wrap his head around. 

The veins became thicker as they travelled up Nux’s arm to his shoulder, and Slit had to shift closer to reach those. The shoulder in question fit perfectly into his cupped palm and he gave it a small squeeze. Nux shifted just a fraction of an inch, making more of his chest accessible though his eyes remained closed. 

The gesture, the suggestion, made heat rise in Slit’s cheeks and along his chest. His throat became rather dry. It was as much of an invitation as he could expect to get. 

Following the natural path of Nux’s bones with four fingers now, he touched one, finely-shaped collarbone, the elegant arch of it, and then touched the hollow place in between. Nux swallowed, and Slit felt it under his fingertips. He became dimly aware of his own pulse increasing in his ears, audible only from the absolute stillness of the barracks. 

Nux’s long column of a pale throat was next on the map, the vein on the side thick enough to feel as he ran his fingernails over it. Were Nux a road to be driving on, he would be all dips and canyons wound with long blue lakes, and Slit found himself the explorer of the landscape. 

He ran a knuckle from Nux’s throat to the underside of his jaw, catching the pointed chin between his thumb and forefinger. For a moment he looked at Nux’s lips, but only a moment- then he was tracing back down again- chin to throat to collarbone to shoulder to arm to wrist to hand. Carefully, he slid his fingers between Nux’s and just held him there, and tried to control his heart. 

Nux gave a little sigh, and reopened his eyes. “My turn?” he asked quietly, looking at Slit closely as if he genuinely cared about the answer. And maybe he did, because it wasn’t until Slit gave a jerky nod that Nux moved at all. 

He pressed closer, until their chests and stomachs touched- and praise V8, did that send a hot spark of electricity crackling through Slit’s veins- and touched his nose to Slit’s throat, inhaling deeply, breathing him in. 

He felt the sparks fly up his spine when he was forced to lift his chin to accommodate Nux’s searching mouth. Kissing Slit’s Adam’s apple, Nux opened his lips against it, and Slit felt the brush of teeth before Nux was pulling back again, the small kissing sound like a shout in Slit’s ears. The air in the room felt cool on the damp spot Nux left behind as he propped himself on an elbow to follow Slit’s throat and jaw line with his nose, feeling for perhaps the one truly soft place on Slit’s body: the skin behind his earlobes. 

The expanse of Nux’s chest was before Slit’s face as his Driver took an earlobe carefully between his teeth and tugged, causing Slit to hiss between his teeth. In retaliation, Slit moved his own mouth to Nux’s sternum, sucking carefully over his heart. He licked the clay away to find real, pink skin, and darkened it from red to purple, marking his Driver. _His Driver._

The sudden swell of possessiveness that thought rose in him made Slit pause. 

“Nuts…” he said hoarsely. “What are we doing?” 

“I don’t know,” the taller War Boy replied, his voice breathier than Slit remembered ever hearing before. 

“I… I think you do know,” Slit argued when Nux settled back against him, more assertive now as he pushed the Lancer onto his back and slithered smoothly on top of him. 

Braced on his forearms, Nux looked down at his Lancer, into his eyes for one moment, then sliding over his lips the next. “I’m taking what’s mine,” Nux said simply. 

And the wave of arousal that crashed through Slit’s veins at that one damned sentence was nearly overpowering; he felt it blooming in his stomach and then sliding, molten, to fill his cock. He gasped aloud from the sensation and bucked upwards with his hips, meeting friction, glorious friction. 

“Well, look at you,” Nux smirked. “Already aching for it, aren’t you? I haven’t even touched you yet. You like being reminded who you belong to?” 

The sound that question wrenched from Slit’s throat was utterly humiliating and he squeezed his eyes closed, unable to look at his Driver. He resisted the urge to grind up again, gritting his teeth until it lessened its hold on him. 

A thumb brushing over his mouth had him open his eyes again. Nux’s gaze was heavy, relentless, the intense blue piercing through layer after layer of Slit’s carefully constructed barriers. There was no hesitation or shame in Nux’s tone when he earnestly said, “I _like_ that about you, Slit. I like that you’re mine.” 

His thumb slid into Slit’s mouth, pressing flat against Slit’s tongue. “Do you want me?” Nux asked plainly- and there it was, out in the open. “Because I feel like we’ve been dancing around this for some time, and Slit? I don’t really like dancing.” 

He withdrew his thumb from Slit’s mouth, watching him, and it occurred to Slit that he was meant to answer. 

“D-don’t make me _say_ it!” he exclaimed, face burning. “Can’t we just-“ 

Nux heaved a deep sigh and gingerly climbed off of his Lancer, settling back down on his half of the bunk. “I guess you don’t want me, then,” He said. “What a shame.” 

He closed his eyes as if he intended to sleep again and Slit stared, flabbergasted, at that placid and unassuming face. In his trousers his rigid cock gave an enraged twitch. 

“You can’t be serious,” he hissed at the smooth face. “Nux!” 

“What is it?” his Driver asked, already sounding half asleep. He was really going to go through with this! He was really just going to pretend- 

Slit felt his resolve crumble around him. Closing his eyes and clenching his fists, he growled, “I want you, Nuts. Happy?” 

Nux made a pleased little noise. “Very,” he purred. “Open your eyes, Slit.” 

Slit did as he was told, cursing Nux in his head the entire time. The curses stopped short when he saw the hungry, wanting look on his Driver’s face. 

“Who’s are you, Slit?” Nux whispered, pulling so close that Slit’s hands were trapped between them. A warm hand rested at the bend in Slit’s waist, scraping ever-so-softly against the skin of Slit’s hip with his nails. 

“Yours,” Slit grumbled, unable to make eye-contact as he admitted the embarrassing truth. 

He was rewarded for the admission by Nux _dipping_ onto him, slow and sinuous as he rolled his back, his hips, grinding up over Slit’s erection. Slit struggled to free his hands, to grab his Driver’s hips, to _hold_ him in place and- 

Nux darted back, still pinning Slit’s hands, and cackled; the authoritative demeanor he’d adopted all but vanished and then he was just Nux again, obnoxious pain-in-the-ass and all. Slit growled, throwing a leg around his Driver’s waist, and forcefully rolled them over. 

”That’s how you want to play?” Slit grumbled, and forced a knee between Nux’s thighs, brushing over the tent in his partner’s trousers with his own knee. Nux froze, his face still forming a laugh but his eyes flashing a brief glint of worry at the loss in power. Unsure what exactly he was doing, Slit rotated his leg against Nux’s groin until Nux shivered all over and cried out, reaching up to catch onto Slit’s shoulders. 

He spread his legs wide, giving Slit room to shift and press closer. The sight was almost too much. “Now who’s aching for it?” Slit growled, and caught an ear between his teeth, tugging almost meanly. 

Nux arched his head back, bearing his throat in what was unmistakably a submissive gesture. “Slit, please,” he whined through gritted teeth. “Want…” 

” _What_ do you want?” Slit asked. “Because you've already made me spill _my_ guts everywhere, so now it's your turn. Or I could just work you up until you come in your pants right here and now.” 

Nux’s eyes flew wide at that; clearly, he hadn’t been expecting anything of the sort to leave Slit’s mouth. Inwardly, Slit cringed: was that too far? 

”Like hell I’ll come in my trousers,” Nux grumbled, and wriggled to slide them down to the tops of his thighs, just like that. Slit became very aware of how much less clothing, percentage-wise, they were wearing between them. At least fifty percent less clothes. _Valhalla take me._

”You might, though,” Nux continued, butting his forehead against his Lancer’s. “Let’s find out. How much do y’wanna be inside me, Slit?” 

Now it was Slit’s turn to jerk, startled. “W-what-“ he stuttered, caught off guard. 

”Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it for years,” Nux continued. “I’m not stupid, Slit. You wanna split me open, fill me up, pound into me until the only word I remember is your name. You want your come sliding down my thighs in great hot spurts, so I’m wet and stretched all day, just thinking about you.” 

Slit’s brain had had too much, like a breaker being switched. This was… this was… He _goggled_ at his driver, mouth hanging open, and a whine burst from his throat. 

”You want that, right, Slit?” Nux asked, and slid his hand down Slit’s chest, reaching for his trousers. “I see it in your eyes.” 

”Yes,” Slit whimpered, and then bucked his hips. Nux’s bare flesh, caught between them, must have been unbearably tender against Slit’s rough trousers because Nux hissed, wincing. 

”Off,” Nux ordered, scrabbling for Slit’s hips. He caught his fingers in the waistband of Slit’s trousers, fumbled for the belt. 

Slit sat up, his hands raking clumsily over the button, the zip; when he finally got them open Nux was there, shoving and dragging them off with his fingers and toes and hauling Slit back on top of him, darting for his mouth. 

Slit panted heavily as, for the first time in his life, he got to kiss his Driver. Nux kissed _hard,_ no softness on him as he hungrily bit at his lancer’s mouth, tugging Slit’s lower lip back with a scrape and then letting it snap back into place. Slit growled; that was going to swell like a _motherfucker,_ he just knew it. 

In retaliation he fumbled blindly for Nux- his belly, and the hair below. He swallowed nervously when Nux’s eyes, pupils blown wide and dark, stared him down aggressively. This was a challenge, like any other. 

Clearing his throat, Slit grabbed hold of his Driver’s cock where it lay firm and hot in his hand. Running his thumb over the weeping tip (and did Nux’s eyes close then as he growled, flexing, scrabbling for purchase) he squeezed firmly and stroked. Pumping his hand at a rapid pace, Slit made the mistake of biting his sore lip in concentration. This was weird- it was similar to jerking himself, hard and fast, when he got the chance, but the angle was all wrong. 

Stopping- and appreciating the whine Nux made at that- Slit quickly lined their cocks up before reaching again, this time grabbing hold of both slippery organs. When he looked down at his hand, unable to completely circle both their lengths, he saw how very _pretty_ Nux’s cock was, a bit smaller than Slit’s own and curved to the left, with a rosily flushed head that matched Nux’s pink cheeks. The sight of their cocks together sent a hot wave of arousal that made his balls clench tight and Slit had to breathe heavily and concentrate to keep from coming all over Nux right then and there. 

But _damn_ was the thought of coming on Nux’s stomach not helping. 

Pressing his chest flat against Nux’s and not worrying about crushing him, Slit pumped his hips into his hand, dragging his cock against his Driver’s. With his lips next to Slit’s ear, Nux whined, his own hips bouncing up to meet the thrusts. He threw his arms around Slit, pulling him closer, closer, and dragging his fingernails up his Lancer’s back. 

”Fuck,” Nux sputtered, sounding close to tears. “ _Fuck!_ ” 

Slit bit down on Nux’s shoulder. It was meant to be a gentle bite, but when Nux ground up again his jaws accidentally clamped harder, and that felt good too. Everything was too damn sensitive. And _slippery._

As he continued to grind his partner against their bunk, Nux reached with a hand for the back of Slit’s head, forcing him to turn his face. Nux gave him a breathless, hitching little grin and then kissed him, closed-mouthed; almost sweetly, for the filth that was going on below their lips. 

”Wanted this for so long,” Nux said, when Slit pressed a second kiss to the strong pulse in his neck. “Wanted you on me. Want you in me. Want you _everywhere,_ Slit, filling me up, stretching me wide… Want to smell like you, want to be filled with you even if we’re not together.” 

The words were like a giant fist squeezing on Slit’s heart. He didn’t know how much he could bear to hear before he did something absolutely unforgiveable, like laugh or cry: both options felt very close to the surface just then, stripped raw and burning like the rest of him. He sealed Nux’s mouth with another kiss, drawing the Driver’s tongue into his own mouth to suck on the sweet little pink tip. Running his free hand down Nux’s chest, he brushed his thumb firmly over a nipple. 

”Aah!” Nux cried out, freezing in place. His cock in Slit’s hand twitched, and Slit smiled triumphantly. _Learn something new every day._ He licked his thumb and then pressed it back over the small pink bud, teasing it into hardness. 

”Slit, _stop,”_ Nux warned. “You’re going to make me-“ 

”Want to make you come,” Slit growled, and leaned in to bite at the hard little nub, dragging it back like Nux had done with his lip. It stretched impressively far. 

The whine Nux made then was like nothing Slit had ever heard before, had never imagined, not even in his most shameful dreams. It was a sound that made the hair on the nape of his neck stand up, his toes curl. 

The wet heat that splashed Slit’s stomach then came in bursts and spurts, Nux’s cock jumping in his hand as Nux’s hips gave helpless little jerks, all composure abandoned as he cried out, eyes closed tight and teeth clenched hard. It was like nothing Slit had ever seen before, his little Driver all strung out and open just for him. 

”Slit,” Nux hissed, a shivery little whisper, and that about did the Lancer in. Swearing softly, Slit ground on his Driver’s spent, undoubtedly oversensitive cock and came hard, so hard that shivers wracked his spine and he bit too hard into his own sore lip, tears forming in his eyes. 

Slit panted hard and, under him, Nux fell bonelessly back, staring up at him with wide, incredulous eyes. 

_Did we really just…_ Slit wondered in shock. 

Above their bunk, the War Boys heard a snort. “About time,” grouched another War Boy. “Can you two shut up now? I’m tired.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful [blacklightsglow](http://blacklightsglow.tumblr.com) made a gorgeous comic of this chapter that can be found [here.](http://mugsandpugs.tumblr.com/post/125038976374/blacklightsglow-the-expanse-of-nuxs-chest-was)


	12. Chapter 12

"Ah, Slit," Nux sighed, dreamy-eyed. "She's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

Slit grunted in response, adjusting the bucket over his shoulder. "She's not gonna clean herself," he pointed out, throwing a rag at Nux. "We've gotta make her shine for tomorrow." 

Nux squeaked-actually _squeaked-_ in excitement, and Slit rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He couldn't prevent the warm hint of fond exasperation in his chest at his partner's smiling face, though. 

"You realize we're just doing all the grunt work because we're the newest War Boys, right?" Slit asked, but Nux wasn't listening. He was already sponging off the War Rig's metal side, actual hearts gleaming in his large blue eyes. 

"One day I'm gonna drive her," he sighed wistfully, resting his cheek against her. "One day. I'll drive us straight into Valhalla, Slit, and we'll walk among all the heroes together." 

Slit raised an eyebrow at that dream, dampening his own sponge to take over the other half of the vehicle. "You'd have to be an Imperator to drive the Rig," he pointed out. Nux was a good Driver, but the possibility of that ever happening was slim to none. 

"Don't listen to him. It'll happen, won't it baby?" Nux cooed to the Rig, stroking her side with his long fingers. 

"Please don't try to fuck a car," Slit said drily. "It always seems like a good idea at the time until your bits are stuck in the exhaust pipe and someone gets out the electric saw." 

"Why do you think I like you?" Nux pointed out, and Slit didn't have to look to _hear_ the grin in the little shit's voice. "Your face is full of metal and it's easy to get your engines purring." 

Even as Slit briefly considered strangling his partner, he couldn't suppress the warm flush that Nux's admission brought across his cheeks and chest. _He likes me._

Nux coughed as he worked, and Slit listened to the sound uneasily. His Driver had had a cold that had lasted for a long time, and it was starting to worry him. More nights than not, Nux was waking up hot to the touch and running with sweat. He'd reach for Slit, pulling him closer, his teeth chattering in Slit's ear, and Slit would rub his back, sweating himself from the heat radiating off of Nux. He was always better by morning, though. 

"Nuts..." he began uneasily. They hadn't talked about the sickness yet; it hung awkwardly between them, as if by resting unspoken, it remained unreal. "Are you-" 

They were interrupted by a roar of engines and a loud clamor outside; Nux perked up, eyes wide. "The search party!" he said enthusiastically. "Think they found anything?" 

Slit pricked his ears, listening. The shouting wasn't stopping; it actually seemed to be growing louder. "Grab her, grab her!" someone ordered. Another someone- a female-sounding someone- roared, and then there was a shriek of pain. 

Glancing at each other, Slit and Nux moved in unison- Nux grabbed Slit's bundle of knives from the floor and threw it over the Rig and Slit shot out a hand, grabbing them without really looking before tucking them into his belt. Nux rolled under the Rig and popped out the other side and then they were running outside to see what was going on. 

The search vehicles that had gone out that morning were parked in a messy circle around a group of War Boys; another was on the ground, clutching at the bleeding side of his head. In the midst of the waving arms and legs Slit caught a glimpse of red hair. 

"Don't hurt her!" someone ordered. "Joe will-" 

"She _bit_ Thom's _ear_ off!" another replied incredulously. "Think of what she'll do if Joe tries to breed with her! We're doin' him a favor if we just-" 

There was some laughter, and someone said, "He'll have to tie her down and put a muzzle on her whenever he wants to-" 

And then Nux and Slit heard the female voice again, this time raised in a yelp of pain. 

"Let me go or I swear-" she snarled, and then was cut off by a second yelp. 

"Stop hitting her!" a War Boy pleaded desperately. "We'll all be in trouble if she's all bloodied up." 

Nux turned to Thom on the ground, dragging the older War Boy's head into his lap so he could examine the profusely bleeding injury. Slit, watching him, almost didn't notice the warning screams until she was already upon him, somehow breaking out of the circle of the War Boys, running back in the direction the tire tracks lead from. He stuck an arm out without thinking and caught her around the waist, hauling her back to his chest. 

She snarled like a demon from hell and turned on him, lips wet and shiny with blood, and raised her chained fists to strike him on the head. His free arm shot up to grab one of her elbows, halting her, and they grappled for a long moment before the search party rounded on them, knocking them both to the sand. 

She was young, maybe sixteen, all nobbly limbs and nonexistent curves and piles of thick, tangled red hair. Everything about her was dusted with freckles and her eyes... there was something disturbingly familiar about her eyes. 

She lunged at Slit's face, snapping with her teeth, and he grabbed for the hair at the nape of her neck, holding her head back. 

A War Boy seized her under the arms and began hauling her off of Slit but she fought back, twisting and growling, and smashed the back of her head into his nose. Slit heard a crack as bone broke and the War Boy dropped her. 

Then her attention was back on Slit. Quick as a whip she surged, clamping her teeth down on the staple in his face and yanking. He briefly glimpsed her spitting flesh-covered metal into the sand before someone lifted her bodily into the air. 

"Get her feckin' ankles, _please!"_ the War Boy who held her roared. "And her damn feral mouth." 

There was a surge to obey the order; Slit had to roll to avoid being trampled. He looked woozily down at the sand below him and saw it running slick with blood. _His_ blood. 

His face throbbed. 

"Slit!" he heard Nux yelling, pushing through the crowd to drop beside them. "Slit-" a hand touched his chin and he turned to stare wildly into Nux's worried blue eyes. 

Nux's jaw dropped when he stared at Slit. "Your _face.._." he whispered in horror. 

Slit tried to open his mouth- probably to make some comment on how Nux's face wasn't so great either- but his mouth opened... _wrong._ Nux gave a violent shudder; he looked like he was about to vomit. 

With the girl now trussed from head to toe, two War Boys walked past them carrying her; one had her legs, the other, her arms. She was gagged, and tears fell freely from her eyes. _Those eyes..._

Nux gasped aloud as she passed. "Capable?" he asked, and she jerked her head to stare at him, but then she was carried out of ear-shot with half a dozen War Boys following after. 

Slit tried to ask what the hell was Nux _talking_ about, what was going on, but when he moved his jaw more blood fell from his mouth, as if he'd had a cup of the stuff and just dumped it out, it was that quick. Nux yelped. 

"Stop!" Nux exclaimed. "Please, stop. I'll get you help. Come on." 

He pulled some rags from his pocket, bunching them up and holding them tight to Slit's face. It stung. He stood and hauled Slit up after him, moving awkwardly. Nux may have been taller, but Slit was bulkier, and moving was difficult. 

"If you'd just eat less, I could carry you," Nux grumbled, and Slit would have laughed at that, really- Nux just couldn’t let go of that one time he’d stolen a bite of his breakfast when he’d thought he wasn’t looking- but the ground was swaying hard under his feet. 

"Don't pass out on me," Nux ordered, in that Taking-Command voice that generally made Slit harder than a metal rod, much as he hated to admit it. He didn't get hard then. Woulda been awkward, he thought. Definitely not appropriate considering the situation. 

"Why are you _laughing?!"_ Nux demanded, dragging him along, voice surpassing authoritative and bordering on hysteria. "Your face is ripped to hell, I'm pretty sure that girl was Go's twin sister, and your heavy ass is hard to drag, damn you!" 

Slit shrugged. Life was just weird sometimes. 

**###**

Slit didn't pass out, much as he'd like to. Eventually he and Thom, the War Boy who'd had his ear bitten so hard that the top dangled only by some sinew, sat side-by-side under an A+ Donor, one of her arms for each of them. 

The Mechanic groaned sympathetically as he patched Slit's face up. "Cryin' shame, that," he said. "Muscle in your cheek's all torn. I'll have to think of somethin' to help you be able to use your jaw like normal." 

Thom wasn't so lucky, and ended up losing much of his ear. He whined high in his throat and then fainted onto Slit's shoulder. 

Slit shot an annoyed glance at Nux, who had been anxiously watching the procedure from nearby. Nux tried to smile back, but his lips were tight and his eyes were full of worry. 

Unable to reassure him verbally, Slit reached and gave his knee a pat. _It's fine,_ he tried to tell his Driver with his eyes. 

Nux caught his hand before he could withdraw it and laced their fingers together. Slit let out a warning growl, trying to pull away before the Mechanic could see, but Nux held on tightly. Slit was too tired to fight. 

The Mechanic, for whatever reason, only looked at their hands and did not comment. "That girl was a real hell-cat, I see," he said, reaching up to pat the dangling Bloodbag's stomach. (She whimpered.) "Joe's got 'is work cut out for 'im with this one- maybe she'll be able to pop out a decent little fighter." 

Nux looked up at his words, making his _very focused_ face that Slit knew only too well, for... various reasons. (He did not blush.) 

"Organic," Nux said, trying hard to sound casual. "D'you know where that girl came from? The redhead." He specified, as Joe’s current two Wives were a pale blonde and a dark-skinned brunette, both of whom he now kept in a vault to prevent another Darling incident. 

"Word on the street is, the salt flats," the Mechanic said. "Found her in a tent, filthy and feral. Why, you have a crush, Boy?" 

"Something like that," Nux muttered, giving Slit a reassuring rub on the back of his hand with his thumb. 

"The Wives are off limits, Boy," the Mechanic warned. "You'd be better off sticking your pal over there." He pointed at Slit, who rolled his eyes. 

Nux laughed awkwardly and swallowed. “Yeah, that would be weird,” he agreed, nodding. 

**###**

When Slit fell asleep that night, still propped against the Mechanic’s wall with the Bloodbag overhead, Nux had crawled in close, all but climbing into Slit’s lap as he leaned back against the Lancer’s chest. Slit knew he’d be woken eventually by Nux’s night fevers… maybe it’d be good to have him here, have the Mechanic available to examine him as it happened. 

What he hadn’t expected was to wake near dawn, fully rested, with an empty lap, hearing whispers. 

”It’s really her?” he heard Nux ask quietly. Barely opening one eye, Slit peered around the room until he found Nux and Go, huddled in a corner. As he watched, Go nodded, looking miserable. 

Nux gave a shiver, wiping accumulated sweat off his brow. "I thought so. You don't understand, Go- she looked _just_ like you. And I remembered her name from that tattoo on your wrist-" he was forced to stop talking when he was overtaken by a bout of coughing. 

“Hey,” Go said, reaching for him. “Are you okay?” 

”I’m fine,” Nux smiled tightly. He glanced warily around the room, seeing that Thom, the Mechanic, and Slit were still sleeping; Slit quickly closed his eye and waited a few moments, hoping he hadn't been caught spying. 

“Okay,” Nux whispered to Go. “Come back tomorrow night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The wonderful [d__t](http://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T) made some gorgeous fanart of Crown [here](http://d--t.tumblr.com/post/121071391294/mugsandpugs-i-drew-some-crowns-that-was-supposed) that I love more than words can say. (Thank you, thank you!)


	13. Chapter 13

Slit spent the next few days in a drugged stupor as the Mechanic did something to his face that definitely involved needles and possibly also involved thick metal staples. At least he couldn't feel it; that was something.

Nux was perpetually by his side, or that was the general fuzzy impression Slit got; the lanky boy curled into his lap like an alley cat, sometimes comfortably warm, sometimes feverishly hot. 

There were a few confusing times when Slit's consciousness became comparatively sharper when he'd see Nux's eyes- blue, so blue, he drowned in blue- watching him, pouring water down his throat, checking under his bandages. 

"M'fine," he'd say, or maybe he only thought he said, because Nux's whispered, _"Shh,"_ followed him into his murky dreams where strange beasts haunted his footsteps through tall, wind-rattled plants. 

When he finally broke the surface, more clear-headed then he'd been in possibly forever, it was the Mechanic's yellow-toothed leer that greeted him. 

"Rise and shine, son," the man said, poking Slit in the chest with a dirty fingernail. "No more drugs for you. You're on your way to healing and you can go now, give that poor Bloodbag a rest." 

"Where'sh Nuts?" Slit slurred through what felt like a mouthful of cotton. Organic shrugged. 

"'E's gone out with that boy. The short one, y'know- Pole Cat in training? E's been in here a lot, too, lookin' after you." He reached forward, holding Slit's jaw as he pulled the hooked needle from his throat and held it up, then touched a grubby index finger to the open sore and licked Slit and the Bloodbag's combined blood from his knuckle. "Well, g'on," he said, nudging Slit's thigh with his boot. "Off with ya." 

Slit struggled to stand and ended up collapsing into the Mechanic's barrel chest; Organic patiently steadied him and then propelled him to the door with a push. 

As if he were sleepwalking, Slit stumbled through the hallways of the Citadel, only a small fraction of his mind able to focus on his steps. He walked at a slant and ended up scraping his shoulders into the walls several times as he went. 

"Well, if it ain't my favorite Lancer," chuckled a familiar voice nearby, and Slit turned his head slowly, blinking his bleary eyes at Tip, who watched him from where he leaned against the cracked frame of a supply closet door. "Where's your Driver?" 

Slit grunted, mildly surprised, and swayed back into his wall. "Could ask you the same thing," he said. His face felt heavy, and it was starting to sting. What exactly had the Mechanic done to him? 

From the closet emerged a young-looking Pole Cat taller than Nux and almost as bulky as Slit himself. As Slit watched, he zipped his trousers up and adjusted them over his hips, grinning cockily. Slit glanced at Tip again and saw the bruises blooming over the Lancer's throat, how swollen his lips appeared. 

"Oh, c'mon! Really?!" Slit closed his eyes as Tip snickered. First Nux abandoned him, now this... 

"Who's ya friend, Baby Boy?" the Pole Cat asked, and alright, seriously?! _Baby Boy?_ Had he fallen asleep again and stumbled into some nightmare? 

"Trip, meet Slit," Tip said conversationally, as if he didn't reek of musk and Slit wasn't currently clinging to a wall simply to remain on his feet. "I mentored him through his Lancer training. Rumor has it that one of the Wives didn't like him very much. Guess this is what happened." 

"I hate you," Slit grumbled, breathing hard through his nose as he pressed his cheek to the cool stone wall. "Just wait til I can stand up again. I'll kick your ass." 

"Oh, like you could," Tip rolled his eyes dismissively, and delicately plucked at the tiny crossbow he vigilantly wore around his good wrist. "You know I always win." He stepped casually forward, all solid hips and shoulders with his waist a snaky, sinuous thing in between. 

Slit was surprised when the older War Boy ducked under his arm, supporting half his weight. "Trip, help me get him to the Barracks," Tip instructed bossily. "He may have graduated but he's still my little prodigy pup." Tip tweaked Slit's nose and Slit longingly considered the prospect of death, or perhaps of strangling Nux as punishment for forsaking him to this hell. 

"Yes sir, Baby Boy," Trip winked cheekily, and Slit groaned when the sleek wall of muscle was plastered to his other side, an arm encircling his shoulders. Trip took a step, forcing Slit to stumble with him as he covered ground roughly the size of a continent. 

They walked like contestants in a four-legged face, Slit held upright only by the sheer forces of personality and over-confidence on either side of him. Was he just imagining things, or did Tip feel skinnier than he had when they'd been training together? Was the idiot losing more weight? 

"That bunk's his," Tip said, pointing, when they finally got to the Barracks. Trip lifted- actually _lifted_ \- Slit under the arms and set him gently in the stone cavity. 

"Tell Nuts I want him dead," Slit mumbled as he rolled bonelessly onto his side. 

"Oh, hey now," Tip protested, giving Slit's back a brisk pat. "Not after all the work it took Crown and I to set you two up." 

Slit sat up so quickly he cracked his forehead on the bunk above him. Reeling from the pain he sputtered, "W-what do you-" 

Tip beamed, crinkling his eyes at the corners, and gave Slit a cheery wave. "Bye," he called in a sing-song voice. "Feel better soon." As they left, Slit swore he saw Trip give Tip's scrawny backside a squeeze. 

"V8 take me," Slit groaned miserably, and covered his eyes with his hands. 

**###**

Based on the milky glow spilling onto the floor from the portholes above, the moon was high in the sky by the time Slit was awoken by someone crawling into the bunk behind him, wrapping an arm around his chest and leaning a forehead against the small of his back. 

"Nuts," he mumbled groggily, reaching to stroke the arm that held him, content until he remembered that he was angry with the Driver. "How nice of you to stop by," he whispered icily, pushing the arm off of him. "I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking." 

"I... I knew you were," Nux said softly, the barest brush of his lips against Slit's back causing the Lancer to shiver despite his frigid resolve. "I checked over and over with th' Mechanic to make sure you'd be okay before I left." He touched Slit's face, running a careful thumb over the metal staples that stretched across the missing gash of flesh. It was such a weird, uncomfortable sensation on the exposed nerve endings that Slit shoved away from Nux, grunting. 

"Don't," he snapped, trying to ignore the flutter he felt in his stomach when Nux pressed apologetic kisses to his spine, one vertebra at a time. "How lovely of you to give a-" he stopped when the familiar scent of fresh blood hit his nostrils. 

Anger completely forgotten in a millisecond, he rolled over to look at Nux, wincing when the metal in his face scraped their bunk. He scanned the Driver with his eyes, head to toe, and came to rest at the four dark stripes running parallel down his chest. He reached to touch them, finding them still wet, not yet scabbed over, and then frowned when he realized that his fingers aligned perfectly over the shallow grooves. _Scratch marks._

Nux stared at him, lips pressed tight, not speaking a word. 

Feeling more and more wary, Slit continued examining him, taking one of Nux's wrists to touch the still-wet oil staining his fingertips, the five blooming bruises around his thin upper arm. 

"Nuts..." Slit said, still looking over at the shiny iridescent oil slicking his partner's fingers. "What have you-" 

They were interrupted by the sound of bare feet slapping the hallway outside the bunker, and everyone startled awake when a very distressed and breathless pup shouted, "A motorcycle's been stolen! And Immortan Joe's newest Wife is missing!" 

Amidst the chaos that ensued, nobody else noticed Nux press closer to Slit's chest, hiding his face with the tiniest of whimpers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to [sleepywarboys](http://sleepywarboys.tumblr.com/trip) for allowing me to borrow their OC Trip for this chapter.


	14. Chapter 14

Slit was still recovering from his week of heavy sedation; he didn't really have the strength to be standing outside the Citadel in the bright sunlight, much less doing so while supporting Nux's weight as well, but that was the position he found himself in. 

They were packed in a tight circle, all the War Boys keeping a respectful, even distance around the four figures in the center. 

Rictus had Capable up by her arms, which he held trapped behind her back. It was likely there was no need to hold her so tightly, as the Mechanic had treated her concussion with his usual mixture of knockout drugs that left her barely conscious at all. Slit tried not to look as she swayed, knees shaking, only to be hoisted up higher by the giant. He shook her, keeping her awake, and muttered something into her ear that made her sob audibly. 

On his knees before the Immortan, Go's bleeding face was bowed. He wasn't bound with ropes or chain, but he didn't attempt to stand either- whether he was unable to from injury or he had already accepted defeat, Slit couldn't tell. 

Immortan Joe stood behind the bowed form, eyes flaming in righteous fury. Slit had never been so _close_ to the Immortan before; just a few steps would be all it took and he could _touch_ him. Despite the pain in his face and the weird way Nux was clinging to him, Slit couldn't help but feel elated. He couldn't decide if he wanted Immortan Joe to look at him or not. 

Every War Boy waited with baited breath for the Immortan to begin the trial, hardly daring breathe in case one errant gasp would make His voice just that much harder to hear. 

"What is your name, Pup?" the Immortan asked softly. A ripple ran over the skin of Go's back, a shudder of tense muscles. 

"My name is Go, Immortan," he said hoarsely. 

"Go." Even without his microphone, Joe's voice boomed in his deep chest. "Why have you traitored me so, Go?" 

Go flinched at the word, sweat beading on his back from the high sun as the Immortan began to slowly circle him. "You kidnapped my poor, defenseless treasure," he said. "You stole one of my motorcycles. You cost us much fuel and ammunition when we were forced to chase you. And you almost killed my wife when you made us blow your tires to stop you." 

Rictus was watching his father with rapt attention. There was a veritable shiver in the ring of saluting War Boys as Immortan drew closer, turning his terrible gaze onto them all. 

"I have _saved_ you," Immortan told them all. "I have lifted you above the Wretched, given you all you need to survive. And I alone can open the gates of Valhalla to you. And yet you defy me so?" 

Slit felt a lump in his throat. _No,_ he thought hard, truly believing in that moment that Joe could hear his thoughts. _No, I would never defy you, Immortan..._

Go shocked them all by looking up at the Immortan, eyes hard despite the bruises. "She's my sister," Go said. "And she is not a thing." 

He raised his left arm high in the air, and Slit saw the nonsense blue scribbles on the boy's wrist. Unable to read letters himself, he'd had to trust the Pup's word for it that the tattoo spelled out Capable's name. Go had shown everyone when he first had it done, excited and proud, so gleeful it was almost obnoxious, though at the time also endearing. Now the memory made Slit feel sick. 

Capable moved, her hands struggling feebly from where they were pinned behind her back to get some leverage. Rictus gathered both her wrists in one hand so he could wrap the other around her neck, trapping her hair with it so that Slit could finally see her face. Side-by-side like this, she did so resemble her brother- both in pain and in defiance. In that moment, he knew: she had not left the Citadel unwillingly. 

And what a strange realization that was, Slit thought, cocking his head. _Leave_ the Immortan? But why? She and the other wives were the most blessed of all. Washed and perfumed, soft and safe. Kept far away from the dangers of the world like birds in a nest by day, and loved by a God himself in the night. There wasn't a War Boy in the Citadel that didn't envy the Wives. 

The only possible explanation was that she was well and truly insane. It must run in the family. 

"You dare look at me?" Joe growled, and the circle of War Boys cowed from the thunder in his voice. "You dare, pup?" He brought a leg back and kicked Go hard in the kidney; Go yelped and fell onto his chest, and the Immortan planted his boot on the back of the Pup's neck, forcing his face into the sand. 

With a wheeze, he bent and gathered up Go's left hand, pulling it back so hard everyone heard the creak of bone, saw Go's shoulder dislocate. Go's screams were muffled. 

Unsheathing a small knife at his hip, Immortan dragged the blade deeply through the word on Go's skin, rending it to tattered, illegible flesh peeling around a bright red line. When he dropped Go's arm, blood began pouring into the sand from the jagged slash in his wrist; pulsing in time with his heart. 

"You will never be awaited in Valhalla," the Immortan said, and drew a pistol from his holster, aiming it at the back of Go's head. "Do not witness him." 

On instinct, Slit closed his eyes- the greatest dishonor a War Boy could offer another. 

The bang was loud, but not particularly ceremonial or meaningful. Immortan was already walking away before the ringing echo faded. He grabbed Capable's chin in his hand, spearing blood over her jaw and lips as he jerked her head to the twitching corpse in the sand. 

"Do not worry, my treasure," he said, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Nobody will steal you from me again." 

The girl made a sound- a soft, warbling sound, like a bird who'd had its neck broken. She swayed again and, with a grunt, Rictus tilted back so her feet were lifted from the ground. She looked trapped somewhere between vomiting and fainting, the drugs in her system blowing her pupils wide. "Go..." she said softly, and, still pressed to Slit, Nux gave a shudder that seemed to run from his toes to the top of his head. Her beautiful face twisted into an ugly, agonized cry. 

The circle of hundreds of War Boys parted to allow Joe to pass, Rictus close behind, half-dragging, half carrying the teenager through the sand. From behind, she looked very young: like her brother, only a child. As Joe made his way back to the Citadel, the crowd collectively raised their linked fingers above their heads, chanting his name. 

Nux did not salute. Nux did not chant. He was so, so very still against Slit's side that Slit wondered if he was having another one of those night fevers, the ones where he stared with his eyes open, lips blue, chest shuddering. He'd woken up a few times with Nux like that beside him lately. 

"Nuts?" Slit looked down. He'd known Nux would take this execution hard, known that Nux and Go were close. But when he put a finger under the slouched boy's chin, angling his face up, Slit hadn't been prepared for the sheer, burning _guilt_ in Nux's face, visible in every pore. Nux was overflowing with it. 

In an intuitive leap that came only from having spent the last decade or so of his life living in each other's pockets, knowing Nux like he knew his own hands, the pieces finally clicked together in Slit's brain. 

He knew with a dreadful certainty what had happened, and he felt chilled to the bone. 

****

###

Slit told himself he was taking time to gather his thoughts, but suspected that it was courage he was actually mustering. Confronting Nux on anything didn't come naturally to him; it was always easier to just let the stubborn Driver do as he wished. 

It also appeared that Nux was avoiding him. He volunteered for chores on alternating schedules from Slit and was always already asleep when Slit went to bed, gone when he woke with his side of the bunk cool to the touch. 

Finally, enough was enough. Gritting his teeth, with anxiety brewing low in his stomach, Slit finished his chores early and tracked Nux down to his favorite place: the heavy tarp stretched between two large, overhanging rocks where the War Rig was parked. Bypassing the two guards at the front of the tarp, Slit entered and glanced around until he saw a pair of familiar legs jutting out from underneath the first engine. 

Grabbing an ankle, Slit pulled him hard, dragging him over the rocky sand until he could straddle the Driver's chest, pinning his shoulders down when he tried to struggle. 

Nux cried out in pain- at first Slit thought it was the rocks, until he glanced down and saw the dirty bandaging that covered his partner's chest. Raising an eyebrow, Slit unsheathed the knife strapped to his wrist and slashed at it, tearing the first few strips open. Nux watched him, unprotesting, as Slit peeled them open and saw the scabby, oozing mess underneath. 

"What the fuck?" he asked, so alarmed he forgot his original mission. It looked for all the world like Nux had just been mauled by a very large wildcat, all long thin lines stretched from shoulder to shoulder, collarbone to naval. 

"Isn't it great, Slit?" Nux asked, grinning. "It's a V8 engine! Well... you'll see it better when it heals. Crown drew it for me and I carved it myself! I'm gonna get my lips done next- slice 'em like teeth, see?" He bared his teeth. "Look like a skull, like Joe's symbol..." 

Slick was at a loss for words. He had come to yell at Nux, but now his voice died in his throat. Scarification was not unusual in the least among War Boys- Slit had had his other cheek slashed to match the first shortly after his stay with the Mechanic- but this seemed disturbingly excessive. 

That was Nux, though. Always with something to prove. Only now Slit knew what that something was. 

With his knife still unsheathed, still sitting firmly on Nux's undoubtedly aching chest, he braced his hands on his knees and bent his head down to stare into Nux's eyes. As always, Nux's returning gaze never so much as wavered and Slit was the first to look away. 

"Nuts..." he sighed finally, looking at the hanging wires of the Rig's engine Nux had been tending to. "Why did you do it?" 

"Do what?" Nux grunted, trying to push himself into a seated position, only to hiss and fall back when his chest rubbed Slit's trousers, irritating the new scabs; a long line of blood welled by his shoulder. "C'mon, Slit, let me up." 

"Why did you help Go and Joe's wife leave?" 

Nux froze in place underneath him- naked shock in his blue eyes. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. "I... whu..." 

"Why did you traitor Joe?" 

"I didn't!" Nux squirmed again more forcefully this time. Slit dug his boots in the ground to remain upright. "What do you m-" 

"The motorcycles are kept aboveground, genius, and the Wives' vault is near the roof. You think Go would have enough time to find her, let her out, get the bike to the lift, lower it, and leave?" He ran his eyes over Nux's chest, finding the four faint lines both older and more shallow than the new carving. "Bet she didn't like it- some War Boy sneaking into her room an' grabbin' her. Did she bite you, too?" He pointed at his own stapled-together face, grimacing. "What would you have done if she screamed?" 

Nux growled in frustration, teeth bared. Slit would have bet his scarf that if Nux hadn't already been so banged up, he'd already be eating sand. Nux always did fight dirty. Even as Slit watched, Nux's fingers wriggled, scooping sand into his palm. Slit was quick to pin both of Nux's wrists down above his head. 

Then Nux just stopped. Went limp, looking tired. "She didn't," he finally said flatly, eyes dulled in defeat. "I don't know why. Didn't even really try to fight me much. My face was covered. I just grabbed her and left." 

The admission nearly took Slit's breath away; he felt choked by horror, shame, shock. His partner- _his Driver-_ had traitored their God. And for what?!" 

"Did it work out how you'd hoped it would, then?" he sneered, feeling ill. "Did you get what you wanted? Go's dead and you're a traitor. You _stole_ Joe's _property!"_

He thought back to Darling. Nux was always so soft when it came to the Wives. Thinking of them as people. He should have known all the way back then: once trouble, always trouble. Nux was a traitor, pure and simple, and he would surely do it again if given half the chance. 

"Shut up!" Nux snarled. "Shut up, shut-" he thrashed under Slit, turning his head to bite hard into Slit's arm. 

Slit growled as he felt sharp teeth sink deep into him, but didn't let up. "Nux!" 

Nux broke away panting with Slit's blood shining on his teeth and lips. He let out a wheezy breath and Slit watched as tears filled the wide blue eyes. "Go..." Nux whimpered. "I didn't know... I didn't think... He just wanted to..." 

"Wanted to what, Nuts? Live in the wasteland? Die of thirst in three days? This is the best we're _ever_ gonna have. If he loved his sister at all he'd thank the Immortan on bended knee for fucking her!" 

Nux seemed to have exhausted himself. Slit's bleeding arm hurt fiercely. Sitting back, he examined it, the perfect ring of oozing teeth-marks, and hissed. _Fuck._

Nux turned his face to the side. Tears slowly dripped over his scarred cheeks, smearing his clay and wetting the sand. "I know..." he said quietly.”I know. But he _begged_ me, Slit. I had to try. He's... he's a friend." 

"Some friend!" Slit huffed incredulously. "You gonna get me shot in the head too?" 

Nux flinched, the cry in his throat worse than one he might have uttered had Slit punched him. "You gonna tell anyone?" he finally asked. "Might be a relief if you did. End it all." 

He could have sat up or punched Slit, but he didn't move, just curled in on himself, looking thin- too thin; when did he get so thin?- and pathetic. He turned his head to the side and pointed at his neck. "Look Slit; I've even got a new friend." 

Slit looked to where Nux was pointing, blankly at first, until he noticed the small bump there. He'd seen bumps like that before: all War Boys had; any who lived long enough eventually developed lumps of their own. _Oh._

And suddenly the weeks of everything Slit had been trying to ignore were shoved in his face all at once. Nux was dying- whether he had weeks or months or years, only V8 knew- and there wasn't a single thing Slit could do about it. 

”Fuck, Nuts.” Slit scrambled off his Driver’s chest, only to pull him back up roughly by the shoulders, dragging him close. He pushed Nux’s head to the side and stared at his Driver’s engorged lymph nodes. He may not have known much about the world, but every War Boy knew about cancer. 

”Lymphoma,” said Nux, giving a wry smile and a shrug. “Should have known.” 

Slit looked from the developing tumor to his partner’s eyes, then back to the tumor. Surely this was a joke. It wasn’t time for Nux to go; not yet. They’d barely even started yet; had hardly achieved anything. Nux hadn’t even gotten to drive his goddamned precious War Rig yet and- 

”Slit?” Nux reached to cup his Lancer’s cheek. The look on his face was unbearably soft for one who had just bitten his arm not two minutes ago. “Slit… why are you crying?”


	15. Chapter 15

Half a year passed before the first big scare- when Slit woke up and _Nux. Wasn't. Breathing._

It was such a strange thing, the sudden absence of a constant presence. At first he didn't know what was wrong at all, only that something _was_ in fact very, very wrong. It took several precious seconds for him to notice the sweat-dampened and horribly motionless form beside him. 

_Oh no. Oh V8 no. Please, please no._ It wasn't time yet- surely! Surely there was more time- one more month one more week one more day, _one more anything please,_ he thought- when Nux rocked feebly next to him, hands fluttering to his throat. 

And then Slit was out of bed and running barefoot through the Citadel’s empty hallways with his arms full of Nux. Slit’s recollection of the time between leaving point A and arriving at point B was sketchy; his body must have already decided on the path for him because his brain couldn’t seem to think at all just then. It felt like only heartbeats of time had passed before he was kicking the Mechanic awake. 

"Organic! _Organic!_ Fix him!" 

The doctor was none too pleased to be roused so roughly from his sleep. "It'd be a lot easier to just kill you both now," he grumbled. "Save myself the trouble." But with enough harassing, Slit managed to get him moving. The Citadel’s only medic swore loudly as he shoved Slit towards a table and instructed him on how to lay Nux out: on his back with his face turned to the side, mouth open. 

Slit’s chest constricted as he looked at Nux in the flickering torchlight. He was so horribly still; just the tiniest hint of raspy, rattling breaths wheezing from his lungs. 

Tubes were pushed down Nux's throat and into his lungs to drain the fluid buildup, and then a small hole was carefully pierced into the soft place between his collarbones. Slit’s ears were tuned in to the sound of oxygen whistling through the puncture and he watched with rapt attention as, slowly, Nux's lips warmed from blue to flesh-colored once more. 

The Lancer made a small noise at the sight that, in daylight, he would never, ever confess to uttering. His knees shook until he had to brace an arm on the table to stay standing. He was almost surprised that his eyes remained dry, but a War Boy always took small blessings when they could. 

"Always knew there was somethin' funny between you two," the Mechanic said, and then shrugged. "Don't ask, don't tell, right?" He muttered something under his breath about nuiscences before dropping unceremoniously back to sleep on his pile of rags. 

Slit ignored him, and by some miracle- or perhaps complete apathy- they were permitted to stay the night and much of the next day as well. Slit must have fallen asleep at some point because when he woke with his cheek pressed to Nux's stomach, a callused hand was petting his head. 

"Thanks," Nux rasped. And that was all they ever said on the matter. 

The next night was, thankfully, somewhat better. Nux's fevers and tremors didn't last nearly as long as usual and he slept most of the night, which in turn allowed Slit to catch some sleep as well. 

They hadn't fucked in weeks- Nux was usually too sick to have any kind of libido- but that night Slit held him close, kissing his eyelids and his scars and then his lips before burying his face between Nux's legs and taking him deep in his throat, grounded to earth by Nux's hoarse cries and the shaking thighs gripping his ears. 

Nux was boneless and limp afterwards, all long slender legs tangled everywhere and weak arms clinging to Slit's chest. He shivered all over when Slit stroked his back. 

"I'm scared, Slit," he confessed. Words he would never say were there moonlight enough to look him in the eye now came pouring forth. "I'm scared I won't be able to die historic. ‘M scared to die soft an’ unwitnessed. Scared o’ the monsters on m’ neck, an’…” 

He fell to silence as exhaustion finally overtook him, carrying him back into a restless sleep. Slit remained awake for a while yet, still rubbing soothing circles on his Driver's back as the words echoed nastily in his head. _I'm scared. I'm scared. I'm scared._

The next morning as they worked on restoring an old engine together, Slit grabbed onto Nux by the arm and dragged him to the side, dipping the tip of his little finger in axle grease as they went. On each tumor he drew a smiling face: two parallel dashes and a curve for a mouth. 

"There," he said gruffly, nodding with finality at Nux’s bewildered expression. "Now they're not monsters; they're your mates, so quit being scared." 

"My... my _mates?"_ Nux asked, blue eyes wide. 

"Yeah," Slit agreed, pointing. "That one's Larry, an’ that one's Barry.” He made the names up on the spot and inwardly cringed at how childish they sounded, but kept his face squared as if to say, ‘ _so no more nonsense._

"Slit..." Nux gazed at him with warm fondness in his eyes, and then wrenched around to clutch at his middle, nearly doubling in half as he was overtaken by a fit of coughing. 

"Some mates," he wheezed. "They're almost as much a pain as you." He tried to laugh but was too out of breath for it. Slit rolled his eyes to mask his worry and slid an arm around Nux's shoulders, steering him into the corner and settling him on the floor with his back to the wall. 

"Stay," he ordered, and pulled the wrench from Nux's hands. "Watch me. Tell me what to do." 

He slid halfway under the car they were repairing and followed Nux's orders to _tighten this_ and _apply that_ until the engines turned over again and the car rumbled smoothly to life. Nux gave him an impressed thumbs’ up. The sight of his Drivers’ smile still managed to send what felt like a thousand moth wings fluttering through his stomach and Slit turned away, gritting his teeth. 

Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that Nux were as easy to fix as a car. He yearned for someone, anyone, to tell him what to do. He'd spent all his life preparing to die and now had no idea what it meant to wish, so deeply that his chest, heart, his whole _self_ ached, for someone else to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go, guys.
> 
> Thank you to [d--t](http://archiveofourown.org/users/d__T/pseuds/d__T) for helping me edit this chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

”Nuts?” 

Slit sat up abruptly and immediately wished he wasn’t when his midsection caught fire. 

Wait- was that fire? Or ice…? In fact, now that he thought about it, maybe it hadn’t hurt at all. 

He glanced down at himself and stared for a long, long time at the shrapnel that had impaled his body, the long metal spike he saw sticking out from his chest. It looked almost absurdly unreal, like an amateur drawing of a horrible accident. 

The world was very quiet when only seconds– although maybe it had been hours; how long had he been out for?- before, it had been rife with explosions and cries, gunshots and the earsplitting scream of metal on metal as countless car accidents took place. It had been a glorious cacophony of bedlam along the Fury Road and now all that was left were the dust clouds and the twisted corpses of vehicle and War Boy alike: a veritable graveyard of loss so extreme the Citadel had never seen its equal before. The silence that overtook it all now was deafening. 

And Slit knew, looking at the red that had pooled in the once-roof of the car he had driven, that he too was a breathing corpse. Was blood really supposed to be that bright? The growing puddle looked almost orange in the setting sun. 

”Of course I had to wake up dead, eh, Nuts?” he chuckled, casually reaching down to pull the shredded hunk of car from his chest with an unpleasantly wet sucking sound; he threw it aside with a clatter and barely blinked at the geyser of blood that spurted out with it. He felt nothing, completely dissociated, already more spirit than body. “Couldn’t just skip off to Valhalla all merry-like. Shit ain’t ever been that easy for us, is it?” 

Lying on his side in the shredded remains of the driver’s seat, he hauled himself out through the shattered window of the upside-down car, inch by painstaking inch. He felt each shard of broken glass- some ground so fine it mingled, glittering, with the sand, others in larger pieces- scrape over his skin, far more than he had felt the bar that had impaled him. He gritted his teeth as, with some difficulty, he dragged first his chest and then his hips out of the car, making amighty effort to drag both his legs out from under the crumpled dashboard as well before collapsing on his back in the sand with a groan. 

This, he found a moment later, was a mistake: it took almost more work to sit back up again than it had to extract his crumpled form from the car in the first place. 

There was something wrong with his left leg, he saw when his keen eyes took in the way his foot was twisted at almost one hundred and eighty degrees. He was no Organic Mechanic, but the bone probably wasn’t supposed to protrude out of the skin like that, white and shining. He chuckled, then shook his dizzy head. Did it matter, really? His mouth was full of sand and chrome and all he tasted was blood. 

He stopped to catch his breath- which was more difficult than before. He wheezed a few times before his brain- slower than usual- fit the pieces together: at least one pierced lung. Well, that should speed things along. He rolled (fell, really) forward onto his hands and knees, tried to sit up, and couldn’t. Crawling it was, then. 

He’d barely made it a few paces, barely registering the searing heat of the sand on his palms, when a pair of boots fell into step beside him. He didn’t have to look up to know who it was; he knew those boots, he knew that stride. He would have known it in his sleep. 

”Hey Nuts.” 

”Hiya, Shit!” Nux sounded distinctly amused as he easily kept pace with his Lancer’s crawling pace. “You sure look funny inching along down there. Where ya goin’, all beat up like that?” There was a youthful chuckle in his voice, something Slit hadn’t heard since before Nux first became ill. 

”Where do you think I’m going?” Slit said, not slowing his crawl, although it was very difficult to both speak and continue a forward momentum, leaving a trail of blood and dragging his ruined leg behind him as he went. “You know the protocol. Search the wreckage…” he had to fall silent and gulp in vain for breath before he could finish, “…for any survivors.” 

”Ever the dutiful War Boy,” Nux said approvingly as he kept pace beside Slit, hands tucked carelessly in his back pockets, long gangly legs leading the way. “Come on. You already know there won’t be any.” 

He didn’t leave behind any footprints, Slit noticed. 

“You died, didn’t you?” Slit asked his lover. “You traitor.” 

”You got me,” Nux said, giving a sheepish little grin and a shrug. “But hey- did you see me? I got to drive the _War Rig_ after all. It was as shine as I could ever have imagined.” 

Slit didn’t really see any point in using the last of his breath up on a ghost- hallucination- whatever. Instead, he thought pointedly, _You_ left _me._

”I left Joe too,” Nux pointed out. “Shouldn’t that bother you more?” 

Were Slit able to, he would have shrugged. It didn’t seem to matter much now, either way. They were both just as dead and anyway, he’d known Nux would end up traitoring Joe again. History had a tendency to repeat itself. _I missed you when you were gone._

He thought the words before he was able to censor them, and to this Nux responded exactly as Slit had known he would. “Aww, Shit!” The mirage razzed, gently nudging Slit’s side with the toes of his boot. “You’ve gone soft in your old age.” 

”Shut up,” Slit groused, dragging himself to the first body in his path: a Bullet Farm polecat, still covered head-to-toe in their customary uniform. With clumsy fingers, he ripped the mask off the lax face and pressed two fingers to the strangers’ throat, but even as he did so he knew it was too late. He was dead, with the bone-handled knife Slit recognized as the Rig’s gear shift stick protruding from his chest. Slit abandoned the corpse and crawled on. 

_So did we win?_

”Who is ‘we’, Shit?” Nux asked. “Remember, I was fighting for the other team.” 

_Oh, yeah._ Slit wondered if he was supposed to care more. He didn’t even feel that curious, really. Maybe Joe got his Wives back; maybe he didn’t. Slit didn’t have the energy to think about it anymore. He barely had the strength to continue moving. 

_Out of curiosity,_ he directed the thought at the almost-Nux that walked beside him. _Why did you do it? Leave, I mean. Help their side._

”Hmm.” Nux fell slightly out of step and, with great effort, Slit surpassed him. Lifting his head, he saw a collision of two cars within a distance that was probably reasonable, but it seemed a Herculean task just then to ascend the mound of crumpled chrome and billowing sand as the sun lowered more and more in the endless sky. The stench of flames and melted rubble was almost a familiar comfort. 

_That’s the place I’m going to die,_ Slit realized. It wasn’t meant to be a shared thought, but Nux, catching up to him, gave a short sigh. 

”Looks like it,” Nux agreed. “You’re bleeding a lot.” 

_Doesn’t matter. None of us were meant to survive the Fury Road anyway._

But it _did_ matter, and Slit tried to repress the growing panic as his body moved slower and slower, as breathing became close to impossible, as he heard the air wheezing horribly through the hole in his chest. His crushed ribs ached. 

”You’d live longer if you stopped moving, put pressure on your wound,” Nux pointed out. “You’re making your heart beat faster; that’s bad.” 

”Great,” Slit gasped. “Thanks.” His hands found the base of the sandy mountain that made up the car wreck and he began hauling himself, inch by aching inch, over the debris. _Fuck, I’m cold._

He felt a hand at his back, not pushing or supporting so much as guiding him. He opened his mouth to snap at Nux, but could no longer draw a single breath. It seemed imperative, then, that he reach the top of the car pile. The most important and last thing in the world; his last task as a War Boy. He grabbed handfuls of metal, the twisted edge of a door slicing his palms, and used the remaining strength in his arms to pull, _pull_ \- 

Finally, he fell through the open Driver’s side door and tumbled through onto something large and soft. Turning his head, he examined the corpse on which he lay. Crown. Huh. 

He brushed a thumb over the chrome that covered the big man’s now-blue lips. _Good job,_ he thought tiredly. _You’re awaited._ He wondered if _he_ was awaited, or if the fact that he hadn’t quite died in battle and was now gasping like the fish in the stories Miss Giddy had once told in the company of a traitor. Maybe the gates of Valhalla wouldn’t be open to him after all. 

His chest pumped aggressively, receiving very little air for all its efforts. Suffocation was an unpleasant way to go, though it was no better or worse than any other way, he figured. He tried not to whine. _Face death with dignity._

”Hey,” Nux was there again, leaning in through the open door. He cast a mournful look at the body of the man who had once taught him to drive before again turning his attention to Slit. “It’s okay. I’m here.” 

_Fuck off,_ Slit thought, trying to glare at the hallucination who leaned angelically over him, looking clean and unscarred and free of any clay. There was worry in his baby-blue eyes. _I don’t need you. I never needed you._

Nux bent through the car door from where it was lying on its side, reaching his long arms through to cup Slit’s face, almost- but not quite- tenderly. His palms were warm against Slit’s chilled skin and his eyes, oh, his eyes… 

Slit felt tears fill his own eyes. A side-effect of exsanguination, he was sure. 

Nux gave a watery little smile. “Our lives were pretty shit,” he said, and Slit gave a half-hearted shrug. Maybe; what was there to do about it now? It’s not like he had a basis of comparison. _It wasn’t all bad,_ he thought. _You made it interesting._

He closed his eyes and, still cradling his face like it was a precious thing, Nux gently pressed the pads of his thumbs softy to Slit’s eyelids. Slit heard the creak as Nux shifted his weight, leaning down further, and then he felt lips soft as a rare cloud press to his own, stealing the final, last hint of breath in his lungs. 

His weary and starved heart jumped, a long-ingrained response to Nux’s touch. _Damn you, Nuts._

”It’s okay,” Nux whispered, a hand sliding from Slit’s face and down his arm to lace their fingers together. Nux lay his head on Slit’s chest, burrowing under his chin like it was late and they were going to bed at last after a long day of hard work. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Slit calling Nux "Nuts" comes from Hallowednight's [Blood and Clay](http://archiveofourown.org/series/260212) series, as does most of the Citadel layouts.


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